


Black and Blue

by Trenzalorewaits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Series 10, Angst, Bilingual, Blood, Canon fic, Demon Cure, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon!Dean, Fallen Castiel, Frequent updates, Knight of Hell, Language Kink, M/M, Mark of Cain, Panic Attacks, Post Season 9, Protective Castiel, Sad, Sad Castiel, Saving eachother, Season 9 Spoilers, Season/Series 10, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Soul Bond, Soul-Searching, Spoilers, Stolen Grace, Suicidal Thoughts, The Cure, bilingual cas, dying cas, knight of heaven, supernatural universe, trueform!Cas, wings!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 22,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trenzalorewaits/pseuds/Trenzalorewaits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being killed by Metatron, The Mark of Cain held onto Dean and turned him into a Demon. Castiel, along with everyone else, believes Dean is dead. Devastated and dying quickly as the stolen grace in him fades, he sets out on a farewell tour to try and relive his time with The Winchesters. One last trip down memory lane. Then, he finds him.<br/>The Last Knight of Hell. After a rocky start, they each intend to save the other man. Dean, feeling he owes Cas that much. Cas, never abandoning his mission to save Dean Winchester. </p><p>The story of two people, torn apart by good intentions and twisted by love, desperately holding onto how things used to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Capacity to Love

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I got the idea for this fic from a dream I had. I know, I have an issue. I woke up laughing so hard because my entire dream was me watching supernatural. There is a scene, I will specify which one when it is published, that I specifically remember in my dream. It inspired the whole fic. I just thought it was really beautiful and I hope my writing can capture it as well as my sub-conscience did.  
> I will update consistently. I just update several at a time in bulk because I change my mind a lot.
> 
> Also, when the fic is done, I will make a playlist on 8tracks to go along with it!

_**"When I thought you were dead, I suffered such great pain that I bound my heart with iron bands to stop it breaking, for iron is stronger than grief. But love is stronger than iron, and now you’re alive again the iron bands are falling off."** _

_-The Frog King and Iron Heinrich_

 

 

Dean was dead.  


Metatron had murdered the one person that Cas would give anything and everything for. An army, his family, his beliefs, his life, God and Heaven, all for Dean. His purpose had always been to protect Dean. Keep him safe.

Now, all Cas could see when he closed his eyes was Dean’s body strewn across a warehouse floor. Blood dripping down his freckled skin. He could see Dean’s green eyes, frozen in fear, glazing over. Two broken arms. Once pink lips turning blue in contrast to the dark red that seeped through his teeth. His fingers turning stiff and cold. And Cas wasn’t there to stop any of it.

Castiel would take leviathans ripping through his insides every day to the agony he felt now. He would take that shame and white hot pain. He’d beg for it to no avail. Because, Dean was Cas’ home.

Cas was proud of Dean. He did what no one else could. If only Dean hadn’t been so proud.

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it pride. He went after Metatron because he needed to clean up his mess. Dean did not do what he did because he had something to prove. That was never Dean. He did it because the people he loved had been wronged. He did it because he couldn’t stand the thought of being a spectator anymore. He couldn't be scared anymore, wasn't allowed to be. He did what he did out of loyalty and devotion.

So no, Dean did not go into that warehouse alone because of pride. He did it out of love. And never was there a boy who had such a capacity to love so fully and so deeply as Dean Winchester.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this is going to be an angsty sad one


	2. The Island

When a human becomes a demon they don’t lose who they were. The things that made them human are all still inside. Their charm, their intelligence, their quirks, and their desires, they remain. Demons don’t lose any part of themselves. But everything they are, every fiber of their being, is intensified. What they disliked, they despise. What they loved, they love furiously. What they wanted, they need with such a reckless abandon that it consumes them.

See, to a demon, when they want something nothing can stand in their way. The ends always justify the means even when they don’t. The want they feel just outnumbers the consequences they face.

To become a demon, a human soul must be twisted. Be it by love, anger, or fear, it doesn’t matter. _It adapts_.

Like the boys in The Lord of The Flies: they changed because of their circumstances. Emotions were heightened on the island out of terror, loneliness, and confusion. They became savages. Their environment demanded it. They killed their consciences because it made doing what they had to bearable. Survival above all. It wasn’t that they didn’t know murder in cold blood was wrong. To them, it was just necessary.

I suppose that is true of all monsters. They do what they believe they have to. They evolve.

I’m not saying it’s right or anything. I’m just saying that, in the end, **monsters aren’t all that different**.

I think Dean realized that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I know these chapters are short but I promise they will get longer


	3. Oil and Water

The best way I can describe the effectiveness of a stolen grace is to compare it to oil and water. If you tried to fill up a glass with oil and water, it would fill. But, it wouldn’t mix.

Like an antibody, the stolen grace fought against Castiel. It ripped at his soul and rendered him almost entirely mortal. It was useless and killing him slower than he would like.

That is another question Cas never got answered: Where do angels go when they die?  
Cas had always hoped that he would get his own little corner of heaven. Full of books and cheeseburgers and bumblebees and the smell of Dean’s cooking and a view of humanity, a park perhaps.  
Not that it mattered. That was all gone now.

At this point, Cas was already dead. He was wandering around in a state of comatose, sleeping on barstools and dry heaving into motel toilets. He was just searching for some semblance, some shadow, of the warmth he felt with Dean. Cas just wanted to relive it all. See, Cas had existed since before the universe did. He had seen mountains crumble to dust, the continents drift, empires rise and fall. He had an eternity in his memory. But, none of that seemed relevant now. The last six years of Cas’ life were all that mattered.

The day he saved Dean Winchester, that was his excavation. His Qumran. Everything he knew about life and what it means to be alive, it all changed when he met the Winchesters. Cas knew everything about them from the beginning. He’d been keeping watch, never able to save them, only ensure that Hell ascended on Dean Winchester. That was his job. Save the Righteous Man from Hell. That was all Dean had been, a prophecy he needed to fulfil. But, Castiel had no clue. Because that sad little kid with a temper became so much more. To Heaven, to Hell, to Cas. Sam and Dean ripped up the rules and they changed their fate. The rest was history for Cas. He rebelled against God all because Dean and Sam showed him what it meant to be alive, to exist. They taught Cas that your fate rests in your hands, that you choose your family and that love – love is the only thing really worth fighting for.  
Dean was Castiel’s mission. But, Dean became Cas’ page one.

So, it was no surprise that Cas was desperately trying to duplicate the warmth that Dean brought to his life. Rummaging through record stores trying to find Dean’s songs. Ordering whiskey just for the smell because the taste burned his throat. Booking shitty motel rooms with two beds, just in case. Looking for that burger joint that Dean loved so much. Castiel’s Farewell Tour. He was losing hair, hallucinating, and waking up in cold sweats. Cas wasn’t sure if it was the grace or the grief at this point. But he swears on his goddamn life that some nights he heard Dean mumbling in his sleep.

Castiel was just hopelessly trying to hold onto the things that made him feel human. Cas was always just trying to fit in with humanity, he envied their unpredictability, unconditional love, and raw wonder. Dean Winchester made Castiel feel human, like he could mix in. But, once again, oil and water.


	4. Void

It was no surprise that Cas was seeing Dean. He saw him everywhere. He heard him laugh or call him from another room. He could hear the roar of the Impala in the dead of night. But, Dean wasn’t ever actually there.

The hallucinations were never quite accurate. He was always a little too tall, nose a bit crooked. But this hallucination sitting three tables over from his barstool was all too vivid. Fuck his sub-conscience, it was learning.

This one, however, was almost a little too accurate.  
The one thing his sub-conscience could never even begin to replicate was the warmth that spread through his chest in Dean’s presence.  
And when he saw that projection, his chest was on fire.

It was Dean, real Dean.

Cas didn’t know how it was possible, he didn’t ask why. Before he had a second to think about how Dean could be alive, he was already crashing into people and approaching the table where a suddenly-not-dead-Dean-Winchester sat. He felt his throat constrict and his hands were shaking. Every feeling he had buried for the past month was bubbling up through the surface. His skin didn’t fit him. His heart was beating in his ears, drowning out the other voices in the room. At that moment, Cas wasn’t dying. Far from it. This was the most alive, most human, Cas had ever felt.

Cas saw these things before he went unconscious:  
Dean looked up, he was met with the same sun-kissed freckled skin.  
He had the same grin spread across his face.  
His eyebrows shot up and furrowed like always.  
His jawbone was just as sharp, if not sharper.  
The lines around his eyes were exactly the same as he remembered, beautiful.  
But, when Dean looked up, he was not met by emerald eyes with golden flecks. The same eyes that gave Castiel calm and grounded him when he had lost it all.  
He was met with  
cold,  
cruel,  
empty eyes.

Black eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it thus far. I am almost done with chapter 5. It is a lot longer than they have been so apologies!


	5. He always did like to sit shotgun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mention of childhood abuse, underage smoking and drinking, and hallucinations.

Dean was so fucking tired. I mean, really. Crowley had been constantly parading him from Hell and back for a month. “Gather ‘round, folks!” He would say, “Come take a good look at the Last Knight of Hell! Lucifer’s legacy, The one and only Dean Winchester!” It was constant. It wasn’t that Dean hated the spotlight, always the exhibitionist. It was the fact that he had become Crowley’s shiny new toy that really pissed him off. That was why he sat at this trashy bar, drinking the whiskey he couldn’t taste anymore. For old time’s sake.

He caught his reflection in his silverware. Damn, he didn’t even recognize himself anymore. He was loving that. Self-loathing had been a full-time occupation for Dean when he was alive. He blinked to reveal his new black eyes in his reflection as a grin spread across his face.  
Sometimes he just wondered what his family would think if they knew. When Dean was a human, his family had meant everything. Sam, his mom, Cas, Kevin, Bobby, Jody, Charlie, Garth, Ellen, Jo, Adam. They were his home. It was the foundation he was built upon. Like I said, demons don’t lose that which made them human. I don’t think any matter of twisting could keep Dean from loving his family. And they loved him back.

Not like it was hard to love Dean Winchester. To start, he was gorgeous on the outside. But, when you really knew him, his quirks, loving him wasn’t a choice.  
He sang out of tune to his warped cassette tapes that he knew by heart. His favorite season was autumn because he could wear his leather jacket (and when his breath drifted through the cold November air, he liked to pretend he was a dragon). He was smarter and kinder than he let on. He was a morning person. He was almost fluent in Spanish, he’d been picking it up from all the Telenovelas he’d watched in motel rooms… always did love daytime television. He liked astronomy, Cas was teaching him. He took his coffee black. His favorite book was Slaughterhouse-Five. A big nasty scar stretched down his left shoulder blade from when he slipped on ice in ’99 and landed on his gear bag. He told people it was from a werewolf. Dean smoked a cigarette his dad gave him when he was 12. He finally quit when he was 25. After a lifetime of abuse, Dean was finally coming out from under the shadow his dad had cast over him. He finally felt more comfortable in his own skin and had his own ideas of what it meant to “be a Man.” He now liked fancy suits and cooking. He never missed a Festival of Moons, self-proclaimed massive nerd. He was a recovering alcoholic. Dean loved Kurt Vonnegut, Harper Lee, and Earnest Hemingway. He quoted Star Wars and Indiana Jones to Cas so he would squint his eyes and tilt his head in confusion. He always wanted a daughter. He was getting tiny wrinkles that made it look like he was always smiling. Despite his hatred for pop music, his favorite song was Hey Jude. He hummed it when he got scared, which yes, happened all the time. And, he slept with a picture of his mom next to his bed every night since he was four years old.

He wondered what his family would do if they saw him now.

He didn’t have to wonder very long. Because just as he was smiling at his reflection, eyes clouded with black smoke, Castiel appeared beside him. Dean felt his stomach drop. Not like this, he thought. His face was so hopeful and resolved. The guy looked like hell, but in that split second before he saw Dean’s eyes, he looked happy. Then, Cas’ blue eyes were met with black. The angels face got impossibly paler, then he collapsed into a heap on the sticky floor of the bar.

Damnit. He couldn’t just leave him there. People were starting to gather around him and Dean really didn’t want to attract any more attention. He latched his arms under Cas’ armpits and hoisted him up.

“S’okay, just had a few too many cosmopolitans,” Dean grumbled.

He quickly carried Cas out of the bar and into the parking lot where the Impala was parked. No, demons do not need cars. But, he was still Dean and some things never change and this also ensured he didn’t get summoned into a trap.

Fuck. I mean, he was glad to see Cas. But, not under these circumstances. He was a demon for fuck’s sake and, honestly, he knew that seeing Cas or Sam would get him sucked back in. They had this power over him and he didn’t know how his new soul would react. When Sam was hooked on demon blood, they locked him up and got him clean. When Cas lost his marbles, the boys were there for him. They always helped each other when shit got real. Except, maybe not so much in the past year. Things were tense and confusing. But, in the end, they always fixed each other. Even when the person didn’t want to be fixed. Dean certainly didn’t want to be fixed. He would fight his hardest. But, he didn’t see himself winning this fight. So, he’d been keeping a nice distance.

Except now, there was an unconscious angel draped over his shoulder. He looked like he was dying. This, Dean couldn’t win. He would get him safe and get the fuck out of dodge before Cas woke up. Last time that Cas needed him, he told him to leave. He owed him this much.

Dean reached behind him and opened the Impala’s passenger door. He sat Cas down in the seat. Yeah, Dean thought, he always did like to sit shotgun. Then he quickly reprimanded himself because he was not going down this road again.

In a matter of seconds, they were speeding out of the parking lot and down the dark road in search of the nearest motel and a first aid kit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole chapter mad me sad and I am sorry


	6. Don't you dare leave me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I just wrote this at 11 pm and unlike other teenagers.. that is late for me. So forgive any mistakes or general lameness. 
> 
> Much love.

By the time he'd found a room, Cas was still catatonic. Except now, he'd broken out into a hot flash. His hair was soaked and sweat dripped down his face. He'd started shaking and twitching. Dean was getting pretty fucking freaked at this point. Cas always did all the healing. It was Dean's turn and he was clueless.

He set Cas down on the bed and started to take off his layers of clothing. He looked like he was about to have a heat stroke. He got him down to his dress shirt and boxers, but he was still overheating. Dean was so scared, more than he would like to admit. Because around this time, Cas went entirely dead weight. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull and his jaw dropped. His breathing slowed down, but his heart was visibly beating fast. Dean didn't know what that meant. But, he could feel Cas slipping through his fingers. This couldn't be it. Not like this. Not when the last thing Cas saw was his black eyes.

He could hear his dad's voice ringing in his ears, "Damnit, Dean. You are useless when you panic. Grow the fuck up and deal with it, you pussy. Come on." He felt his head spinning and felt like giving up. Dean shut his eyes and balled up his fists. He was useless. He was the last fucking Knight of Hell and he felt totally powerless. He'd done all of this. Everything he touches he breaks. He might as well leave him alone and maybe Cas would have a decent chance at waking up.

Then, out of the darkness, came his mother's voice. Clear and kind. She sang, "Anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders. And don't you know that it's a fool who plays it cool."

Dean opened his eyes and found his calm, cursing himself for wasting time by panicking. He looked down and said, “Alright, Cas. You've been out for too damn long, buddy."

He ripped off Cas' shirt without undoing the buttons and threw it to the side. He then remembered something he had in the trunk. He ran to the Impala, just hoping they were still there. Dean threw open the hood and desperately rummaged through his unused guns and knives. There they were, finally. Smelling salts. He tore through the door and to Cas' side. He was careful about unscrewing the lid, not wanting to touch it for fear of burns. He rested the glass bottle against Cas' upper lip, just willing him to wake up.

Cas' eyelids suddenly flashed open and his pupils dilated to pinpoints, making his blue eyes look even more intense. He was looking straight at Dean.

"...Dean?... I... I thought you were dead... " Cas barely choked out the words through his raw throat.

Dean started to scramble away. He'd forgotten about the whole him-not-being-present-when-Cas-woke-up part.

"Shit, man. N-no...uh... It isn't... I'm not him... I um…n-no … fuck.. I can't stay." Dean looked away and rushed out the door, fidgeting and pissed at himself. As he ran to the Impala, he heard Cas' faint cries.

"Dean! W-wait! ... No!" His voice was cracking and broken.

Dean slammed the car door shut and the engine roared to life. He reversed and looked down to switch the car back into drive. When he looked up, Castiel was standing in front of the Impala as the headlights illuminated him. It was freezing cold and he was just in his boxers. He had tears in his eyes and it looked like he could collapse at any minute. Cas had raised his hands above his head as if he was approaching an angry animal.

"Dean..." he croaked, "Don't you dare leave me." The tears that filled his deep blue eyes spilled over onto his pale cheeks. "You can't."

Dean leaned out his window, exhausted.

"... I'm not him. I'm not me anymore, Cas. I just ... I can't stay. I am not who you are looking for, that guy is dead. He died." He kept his voice level, although war raged inside of him.

"I don't care who you think you are. Just... stay. I'm begging you. I'm dying, Dean. I'm very scared...and I... I can't be alone."

Dean and Cas just stared at each other. Cas, searching for words that might make Dean stay. Dean, searching for words that could convince himself to leave, but coming up short. Dean put the car in park. He got out and leaned against the hood. Dean hung his head and rubbed his neck with calloused hands.

"I'm not pleasant company.” He growled.

"I know." Cas gave a weak smile.


	7. Greeley, Pennsylvania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments. They mean a lot to me and they make me want to write more. Thank you thank you thank you. And I will say again, no this fic is not over. I am still updating. I am trying to as much as possible before I move to London. The weeks surrounding my move overseas are going to be unpredictable and busy so I want to get out as much as I can now. I have a long ways to go and I promise, it is still in progress.
> 
> Thank you all so much.
> 
> Much Love,  
> McKenna

Cas took the scratchy yellow blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around himself. He’d gone cold while he watched Dean intently. Dean stood by the doorway and looked apprehensive, like he would disappear at any moment. He could if he wanted to, just materialize into nothing and Cas would be alone again. This must be how Dean felt when Cas had wings. The two men sat in silence, studying each other.

Dean finally spoke, “You really should shower. You’ll feel better.”

“What happened, Dean?” Cas wasted no time responding and was careful not to break eye contact.

“It doesn't matter.” He replied emotionless.

“What have they done to you?” he was using his Commander Castiel voice.

“I said it doesn’t matter. This is what I am now, Cas.” He seemed oddly proud.

“How? Last I knew, Metatron had stabbed you. He ran straight to me and told me with your blood on his blade."

Dean sighed and sat down in the questionably stained motel chair.

“Okay, fine. I was all juiced up on The Mark. I went after Meta-douche. He was stronger than I thought and I was trying to buy you some time. Then, he stabbed me and then Sam was there and he tried to walk me out but I died on the way. I woke up in my bed. Crowley was there. My body was burning and my bones felt like they were coated in tar. I woke up and I felt like an animal. It’s hard to explain. But, The Mark held onto my human soul, and demonized it. He and I left the bunker. Sam has no clue where or what I am. Crowley has been parading me around Hell for the past month. I’m the new celebrity in town. It’s all tight silk suits, champagne, and hot demons for me. I’m The Legacy of Lucifer now. Funny how things change, huh?”

Cas shifted awkwardly. “Dean, I…”

“Save it, Cas. I'm happy. This is my life now.” He kicked his feet up on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “It’s time I embrace it. I was always a little on the dark side. Then again … so were you. That’s where we are alike, Cas. Ya know, you always had your heart in the right place but the universe just didn’t give a fuck, did it Cas? No matter how hard you tried, you just didn’t make the cut. Everything you touched crumbled to dust. It is in our blood, Cas. We don’t belong, we never did. People like us… sorry… Things like us… they just have to see themselves for what they truly are.” He sounded different, acidic. There was a bite to his words and it stung in Castiel’s chest.

“… and what are we?” his voice was so small

Dean leaned forward in his chair and his eyes flicked to black.

“Beasts.”

Cas felt paralyzed. Dean was worse than he could have imagined. The way he cocked his head and smiled, his unforgiving stare, his words like fire. It scared him. It broke his heart.

Cas’ voice was weak and he clung to that oddly yellow duvet with all of his might. He was shivering from the cold as sweat dripped down his neck. His eyes settled on shaggy blue carpet. He spoke in fragments and kept his words level. He was stating facts.

“Dean Winchester, that is the most ridiculous, ignorant, and ungrateful thing I have ever heard you say. I have seen many souls. I have witnessed many lives start and end. I can see into the soul of everyone I meet. And I can tell you this, your soul… it shone the brightest. From day one, Dean, you’ve been the most divine. There is a reason you were chosen to be the vessel of Michael. Your soul… it was the purest. And it is the very reason that you were dealt such an awful hand. All for that one fucking prophecy, all that suffering. It was never supposed to be like this. No, Dean, what you touched did not turn to dust. You have been manipulated and fucked with from the very beginning because Heaven thought it was necessary. I cannot apologize enough for that because I had a part in it. My family and I, we made yours and Sam’s life Hell. This isn’t in your blood. It’s in mine. Because, you were spot on about one thing, Winchester. Everything I touch turns to dust. Because if it weren’t for me, you would be happy. You wouldn’t be a demon. And that soul of yours, it would be clean. No Dean, I did this.  
So, shut.  
the hell.  
up.”

Although he kept up his uncaring facade, Dean’s stomach was churning. Demons weren’t supposed to feel, he thought. They were supposed to be ruthless and cynical. The words he had just spat at Cas, they were supposed to scare him away. But Cas didn’t flinch. He didn’t believe his crap. Dean was at a loss.

The two men just sat in silence for a very long time. It felt like hours but really it was about five minutes. Dean tapped his fingers and let his eyes wander around the motel room, trying to distract himself by counting the dots on the faded blue wallpaper. It wasn’t working. Castiel’s words were burning in his head. Cas’ gaze hadn’t moved. He was still intensely staring at the carpet, gripping the yellow duvet with white knuckles. Look at us, Dean thought, we are so wrecked.

Finally, Dean’s voice cut through the thick air.

“So, what brings you to Greeley, Pennsylvania?”

Cas was silent. Dean feared he shouldn’t have said anything. What a stupid thing to ask, he thought, why the fuck is that relevant right now? Cas’ tilted up his chin and looked at Dean. His jaw was tight and trembling. Purple circles were etched into the skin under his bloodshot blue eyes,

“You.”

“What do you mean ‘me’? You didn’t know I’d be here!”

Cas spoke very low and slow, like he couldn’t physically form the words. He looked back down at the carpet.

“You are always with me, Dean. I’ve been hallucinating for weeks. Everywhere I look… I always see you. Every voice I hear… It’s always yours.”

Dean fidgeted and cleared his throat. He felt so damn guilty.

Cas didn’t expect him to answer. He just continued on, “Nonetheless, I came here because we came here. When we tried to defeat Raphael. We came to this town and I thought I was going to die and you took me to a strip club which turned out awful.” Dean choked out a laugh. “I’ve been traveling around the country. Going to places that you and Sam took me. I thought, maybe, I could find it again.”

“Find what?”

“That feeling.” Cas was pulling at his damp hair nervously.

“What feeling, Cas?”

His eyes slowly wandered up to meet Dean’s.  


Dean shut up.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah that was sad now i am too sad this is a dumb idea why did i write this sad thing ugh  
> dean being all bitter because he is trying to get cas to not want to be with him because he thinks he isn't good for cas and it makes mE SO SAD
> 
> stay tuned, kitty cats.


	8. That dirty trench coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no they don't have shower sex so don't get your hopes up

Cas looked better, but he still looked like shit. I mean proper shit. His hair was matted and soaked in sweat. He went into bouts of cold sweats and hot flashes. It was honestly a miracle Cas' heavy eyes were even open. His vessel was deteriorating. He had a nasty bruise forming on his cheekbone from when he blacked out and hit the floor. He also split his eyebrow open and a trail of blood dripped down his temple. Since they had stopped speaking, Cas had started to drift into some state of half-consciousness.

So, after a lot of silence and awkward shuffling, Dean decided to do something about it.

“Cas, I can’t watch this anymore. You need a hot shower, and some fresh clothes, Neosporin, lots of water, sleep, and -I am going to regret this but- a salad. Come on, you aren’t dying on my watch.”

Cas did little to protest. He let out a faint, “hmm.”

He was falling in and out of restless sleep and just looked really uncomfortable. Dean stood up and motioned for Cas to stand up. He reached out his hands, but Cas didn’t move. It was looking like Cas was going to do little to help. Dean unwrapped Cas from the blanket, hoisted him out of the bed and wrapped the angel’s arm around his neck. He was clad in his white boxers. Cas’ fingers grasped Dean’s denim button-up as he helped him into the bathroom.

He sat Cas down on the toilet as he started the shower. Cas leaned his head against the light blue tiled walls. His head was killing him and he was exhausted. But the warmth in his chest had returned. It spread into his lungs, he just breathed it in. Finally, he thought, I’m home.

Dean chimed, “Astounding water pressure as expected! These one-star motels never let me down.”

Cas mustered up the strength for something that resembled a giggle. Dean wrapped his arms under Cas’ armpits and moved him to his feet.

“Thank you.” Cas whispered.

“Yeah well, don’t get used to it.” Cas smiled.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you can leave now, I can remove my own underwear.”

Dean chuckled and said, “Fine then! I know when I’m not wanted.”

Cas laughed, “Shut up.”

Dean made sure Cas had a steady hold on the handicap shower rail before letting go.

“You got it?”

Cas nodded, out of breath it seemed already.

“Alright,” he straightened his shirt, “… yell if you are dying… or whatever.”

“Good thinking.” Cas grinned at him.

Dean turned on his heels and left the bathroom. It was all feeling too… normal. Like they just easily slipped back into these roles. That scared Dean. He wasn’t going back. This was because Cas had saved him and because Cas was dying and because he cared for Cas a lot once. They were best friends. He didn’t want to just leave him here to drift in and out of consciousness until he died. But, part of him felt like staying for the night would mean staying forever. He couldn’t do that. He had a new role. Dean wasn’t Dean anymore and this was something that old Dean did.

He stood at the end of the other bed and rubbed his temples. He was torn between the man he used to be and the thing he was. Just his luck. He found something real here. A real family and someone who cared about him. Someone who he knew would always protect him. But he didn’t deserve it anymore. The person Cas was searching for died a long time ago and he couldn’t imitate a ghost. He couldn’t play that role anymore. Even though Dean was a bloodthirsty demon, he still cared. He knew that Cas deserved better than him as a friend.

Fuck. Dean felt the back of his neck burning and a flush spreading up his cheeks. He was leaving. He couldn’t stay. He’d fuck it all up more or get sucked back into his old life. It wasn’t even his life anymore. Dean slipped on his leather jacket and sat down on the bed to put on his boots. He was leaving before Cas could fight him. It was cruel, he knew. He didn’t want to think about how Cas would react when he got out of the shower. He just had to haul ass. It was better for all of them. Cas didn’t see that now, but one day he would. Dean hoped he would.

He was lacing up his boots when his eyes wandered over to Cas’ trench coat on the ground. Something inside him, long dormant, smiled at it. He’d saved that thing after Cas had walked into that river. Dean thought he was dead, for real this time. That dirty, old trench coat had been his little reminder of Cas. He was oddly sentimental about it.  
He picked it up off of the carpet and folded it neatly on Cas’ bed. He thought that maybe it would tell Cas that he did still care, stupid, but he gave it a shot. As he folded it, a letter slipped out of the pocket. Dean curiously looked at the creased envelope and set down the coat. The smudged letters on the front said, “For Sam”.

Okay, now he was intrigued. Before he could think better of it, Dean was opening the envelope. In bleeding black ink, was Cas’ perfect cursive. It said this:

-Dear Sam-

  
If you are reading this, it means the stolen grace wore off and I have died. I am sorry that I went missing at a very bad time. But, I need you to know a few things. The reason I did not go back to the bunker was because I couldn’t. Sam, my promise to you was to protect Dean. I promised you that many times. This time, I failed. He died because of me. If Metatron hadn’t risen to power, he would have never been able to kill Dean. That was my doing. Sam, I am not afraid to admit that I was scared. I could not face you because I know I let you down. Also, I understand why you were angry with Dean in his final months. You wanted to sacrifice yourself for the greater good. But Sam, if anyone deserves to live, it’s you. You have done more than your share. Dean’s intentions were good. They were not selfish or unjustified. If it were me in his place, I would have stopped you. I think if the roles were reversed you would have stopped him too. Because, Sam, Dean only did the things that he did because he loved you. Dean was very good at that. He loved fully and honestly. You two possess the purest souls I have ever and will ever see.

Sam, you do not have to fulfil this toxic hero complex that my family has instilled in you. This isn’t your fight. Dean and I have passed, but you must live, Sam. Go back to college, find someone, get a house. Die if you must, but not on a battle field. Die old in your bed surrounded by people you love. I hope that by then Heaven will be fixed. I reserved you a very nice corner long ago. You deserve it.

I wanted to thank you. I wanted to tell you that without you and your brother I would have died very long ago and very differently. The last six years of my life have been worth it all. All the pain, the suffering, the death… it is all worth it when I look at you and Dean. And I am so sorry that his life ended before mine.

My time is over now, I’ve lived too long. Thank you, Sam. It has been my honor.

-Cas-

Dean folded the note backup, put it in the envelope, and slipped it back into Cas’ pocket. He untied his boots. He took of his jacket. When Cas stumbled out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and looking much better… Dean was still there. Cas' eyes softened. Dean wasn't going anywhere tonight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw, dean.


	9. Bitches get stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Needles and blood.
> 
> ALSO! Thank you so much for your comments and kudos and too all of you who said you are crying, I am sorry. I am crying too.

 “Dean?” Cas asked as Dean was sterilizing the needle in hydrogen peroxide.

“Hmm.” he was concentrating on the needle soaking in the styrofoam cup.

“What have you been doing in Hell?” Cas watched him intently.

Dean set the cup down on the nightstand next to Cas. He then dipped a napkin in a disinfectant solution he mixed together earlier. Dean scooted closer to Cas on the bed.

“Well, lots of stuff.” He brought the napkin up to Cas’ split eyebrow. “This may sting, by the way.” Dean bleated the disinfectant onto Cas’ face and dabbed away the blood dripping down his temple. Cas hissed and flinched backwards. Dean laughed. “Like I said, big baby in a trench coat.”

“I am not wearing a trench coat, Dean.” Cas deadpanned.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I’ve been doing a lot in Hell. Crowley has me on some sort of victory tour or whatever you want to call it. It’s weird. It’s not like the Hell I’ve seen. You know the rack, the fire, the void. There is a whole ‘nother side to it, Cas. I’m a really convoluted version of a celebrity. I’m living in luxury. I’ve got this endless supply of fitted black silk suits and vests and handkerchiefs and ties and cufflinks and oxford shoes. I am always in jet black and I feel like Daniel Craig. It’s actually really freakin’ cool. I never got to do that sorta thing before. There is constant scotch and cigarettes. I can drink and smoke and I don’t have to worry about the consequences. I’m immortal. Also, mind-blowing hot demons are everywhere, who are terrifying and aggressive but, granted, I always kinda liked that sorta thing,” he winked.

“Aghhh, Dean! Be gentle!” Cas interjected when Dean pressed harder on his wound.

“Don’t bitch, Cas. Bitches get stitches.”

Cas tilted his head and squinted at Dean, “Isn’t that the objective?”

“Oh, my fuckin go…” Dean trailed off and stared at the wall. He was wearing the sick-of-this-shit face.

He looked down to thread the needle. His voice went from annoyed to comforting. “Just … hold still and calm down. You are a celestial being from the dawn of time and this is just a needle and thread.”

Cas nodded and let Dean continue. He pierced Cas’ skin delicately. Castiel didn’t flinch. Dean had done this so many times to others and himself that it didn’t hurt. Dean’s huge, scarred, calloused hands were surprisingly delicate and steady. Cas kept his eyes open and watched Dean’s face as he worked. It was silent and all he heard was Dean breathing. It was comforting. Cas didn’t think he’d ever hear that sound again.

Dean ended the silence, “Another thing! Crowley? He acts like my fucking sensei. I swear Cas, Crowley is my Yoda. I mean, he is still a narcissistic dick. But, it’s like he is planning to have me take over. It’s like he has been planning this from the beginning. I’m like his boy wonder. I feel like Charlie in The Chocolate Factory when Wonka told him the factory was his. It’s surreal, Cas. But, I love it. I love my clothes, the sexy demons, the fine booze, and how I feel. That self-loathing, my inhibitions, my nerves… it’s gone, Cas. I mean, I like killing more than I did already. Which, I can see that being frowned upon in a civilized society. I agree. But, I don’t hold back. When I want something, I get it. When I don’t like something, I get rid of it. I’m who I’ve always wanted to be.”

Cas raised his unwounded eyebrow in doubt.

“Okay, fine. I haven’t always wanted to be a demon. But, how I feel. It is how I have always wanted to feel. Hold this for me,” Dean said as he slipped a 'butterfly' shaped bandaid into his hand.

Dean started the diagonal stitch to finish sowing Cas’ brow shut. Cas said nothing for a minute.

“You know, you don’t have to be a demon to feel that way. “

“Well then how come I never felt that way before I died? Because I can guarantee you that I never felt like I even had a chance at feeling this happy before.”

Those words stung Cas. Dean didn’t know what he said, but Castiel always thought that maybe he made Dean happy. He tried really hard, at least.

Cas said, “You don’t feel that way because you are a demon. You are feeling that way because you got a fresh start.”

“Whatever it is, it’s working.”

“Well, I am glad you are finally happy, Dean Winchester.” There was a bite in Cas’ voice that he tried and failed to keep out.

“Come onnnn, don’t be like that! It wasn’t like I wasn’t ever happy before. I wasn’t happy with myself, Cas. I wasn’t confident. I had so much guilt that stopped me from doin' what I wanted. Now, I feel like I can do anything and be everything. I just… I held myself back a lot. I kept a lot all bottled up. The Winchester way. Then I let it out in a manic burst of self-hatred and anger and I can admit that now! My dad made me really scared of what would happen if I was myself. I had to be him and that was total shit. I can see that now. So, I'm makin' up for that lost time.”

“I am happy for that,” the corners of Cas’ mouth turned up. “You deserve that more than anyone. You really do.”

Dean nodded, grateful that Cas understood. He scooted even closer to directly face the angel and rested his elbows on Cas’ shoulders for support. Dean’s face was right there. He was taller than Cas, even sitting. So his lips were centimeters from Cas’ eyes.

“Now,” Dean ordered, “don’t move at all. I mean it, Cas. I don’t want to hurt you. I have big fingers that are not ideal for tiny knots and I’m a little rusty.” He smirked. Cas never had seen Dean’s lips so close, never had he seen him smile so close, never was his breath so warm and nearby. He didn’t dare blink. He didn’t even notice any pain. Cas just crossed his eyes and watched him bite at the inside of his lower lip. Dean always did that when he was concentrating. Dean took the small butterfly bandage out of Cas’ stiff hand without moving away. Dean unwrapped it and gently placed it over Cas’ stitches. He slowly ran his thumb and forefinger across Cas’ forehead and down near his eyelid to secure the bandage. Cas leaned into the touch.

Dean smiled and moved his face down to look in Cas’ eyes. “All done! I don’t have a lollipop or a sticker, sincerest apologies.” He moved his face away and took the warmth with him. Cas let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thank you, Dean. I feel much better now.”

“Course ya do. Dr. Sexy’s on the case.” Dean raised an eyebrow and did the little finger gun motion that made Cas laugh.

“Isn’t that the guy from that show you li—”

“I think that’s enough questions for one night, Cas.”

Not long after that, Cas put his boxers back on and fell into a deep sleep in a warm cocoon of yellow sheets. He was laying on his stomach, his tanned back exposed. His hair was still drying and his skin smelled like soap. Dean went to the Impala and retrieved some lore books that Sam had left in the trunk. He sat on the end of the second bed. Cas snored softly. Dean didn’t really find it annoying like he used to. He began to look up Soul Cleansing. Cas wasn’t dying without Dean putting up a fight. Oh boy, did Dean Winchester have a whole helluva lot of fight in him.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think they were going to kiss, did you?
> 
> stay tuned, nerds.


	10. His weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Actual plot! Actual contribution to the story line! Wow! Aren't you lucky.
> 
> Yeah, it was time to get the plot in motion.
> 
> Thank you, dearies. 
> 
> Much love,  
> McKenna

When Castiel woke up it took him a minute to remember where he was. He was warm and his head wasn’t throbbing like it usually did. Then he looked up and saw Dean. He was sitting cross-legged on the other bed, encircled by thick books. He had his head cocked to the side and was mouthing the words as he read them.

“Never did I think I’d live to see Dean Winchester actually doing research.”

He gave a stiff laugh and kept reading, “Well good morning to you too, Sunshine.”

“What are you looking for?” Cas propped himself up on his elbow and rested his cheek in his hand.

Dean closed the book and rubbed his temples, “How to cleanse a soul and render it back to it’s intended state or whatever. I’m trying to figure out how to get your grace back in order. I don’t know if it’ll work. But, I think I found something that may get you your juice back.”

“Dean… It’s not worth it. I deser—” Cas shook his head and frowned.

“No, listen! I think I found it! Three freaking tasks and you will be back to normal! If we can get you better is that not worth a shot?”

Cas sat up and leaned against the backboard. “There is no spell, there are not trials, there is no cure. When an angel steals a grace then they make a choice. This is the punishment. There is no spell that can make a stolen grace compatible. I knew what I was getting into. I knew the consequences.”

Dean’s voice was suddenly desperate, “Then why did you do it?”

“To help you and Sam. I was useless as a human. I am no hunter, you said that. I have no skills past my angelic powers. Without them, I was of no help to you. I needed to help. It was worth it, Dean.”

“Are you really that stupid? Cas, you aren't useless. However, may I remind you, you're a whole helluva lot less useful dead. You are more than your stupid grace. Also, I never said you weren’t a hunter!”

“You said I sucked.”

“I didn’t say that!” he squinted, “I said there was… room for improvement!” He gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes, “Anyways, this isn’t a spell to get the grace to be compatible. This is to return your soul to it’s intended state. Your intended state is angel. Right now, you are not an angel. You are a human that stuffed an angel’s grace into their body. It’s totally different!”

Cas just sighed and combed fingers through his hair.

“Let me help you, Cas.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because, stupid, you’re dying. I’m not just going to let that happen. I may be a demon, but I’m not cruel. I’m gonna help.”

“And then you are going to leave, aren’t you?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Cas’ eyes.

“I can’t stay, Cas. You gotta understand, this isn’t my life. This is the life of a sorry bastard who already died. So, for old time’s sake, I will help you. One last hurrah because I owe you this one. But, then I’m gone, man. We fight on two different teams.”

Cas stood up, walked pointedly to the motel bathroom, and closed the door a little too hard. Dean buried is face in his hands. He couldn’t stay. He just couldn’t. Yes, part of him still wanted to stay and be there for his family, that tiny inkling of humanity just trying to cling on. He tried to fight against it with all of his mite. But, yeah, Cas was one of his big weaknesses. Cas, who always fought for him even when he didn’t want to fight for himself. Cas, who liked cheeseburgers and bumblebees and humanity. Cas, who ripped up the rule book of heaven because he believed in Dean. Cas, who never got Dean’s jokes but always tried really hard, which made Dean smile. Cas, who took away the devil in Sam’s head and put it in his own. Cas, who just wanted more than anything to heal people and things. Yeah, Cas was his weakness. He deserved a lot better than a demon for a best friend, Dean thought. So, he was leaving him alone. That was his last favor for Cas.

Cas emerged from the bathroom. He still had bed-head and was now wearing the clothes Dean had set out for him to have. Faded Levi jeans and a black Def Leppard 1987 Hysteria Tour t-shirt.

“So,” Cas spoke softly, “what’s the first trial?”


	11. Mars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous!Dean. You are welcome.

At ten o’clock, Dean and Cas drove to The Fleetwood Diner for breakfast. It was swelteringly hot in the restaurant, yet Cas shivered in the faded green Bob Dylan sweatshirt that Dean lent him. Dean had ordered Cas eggs, hash browns, and waffles. But, Dean wasn’t eating. He had his nose buried in a book.

Cas couldn't help but noticing how easily they slipped back into how things were. Dean and he were acting as if they were both still the same while everything was different. It didn't make sense. Dean was a demon and wasn't outwardly acting like one. Again, he still had his charm and his character and it would never go away. But, that other part of him, the monster was hiding. He was shoving it down and trying to reassure Cas that he was okay. Maybe then Cas wouldn't try to save him, or so Dean thought. But, it was obvious to Cas. Dean was trying to act like he was normal. Sometimes it all  _felt_  normal. The bantering, the teasing, the arguing, all still there. But, at some points Cas could very briefly see how much things weren't the same. It was unsettling. Cas feared that one day soon he would wake the beast.

Dean was scared of that too.

Castiel picked at his breakfast and watched Dean’s eyes flicker from word to word. They sat like that for a very long time. Dean occasionally muttering to himself. Cas would periodically cough into his napkin and hide the spotting blood that was left behind.

Their waitress, whose name was Dana, chimed in, “Hello, Darlin’s! How’s everythin’ tastin’?” 

“It is quite satisfactory, thank you.” Cas said with a winning smile. Dean let out a little cough of a laugh.

“Well, you’re very welcome, handsome! Play your cards right and there is a piece of pie in it for ya.” She winked at Cas. “And what about you, sugar? You sure I can’t get ya coffee, some pancakes, anythin’?”

Dean didn’t look up. Cas kicked Dean’s foot under the table.

“What?”

Cas nodded his head at Dana.

“No. Thanks anyways.”

“Must be a mighty good book you got there!” She mused, “Whatcha reading?”

Dean hated small talk and he really didn’t appreciate they way she was talking to Cas and winking at him or her wild blond curly hair and too bubbly of a laugh.

“50 Shades of Grey.” Dean deadpanned.  
  
  
She tried to fake a laugh and said “Let me know if you change your mind,” then quickly walked away.

“Dean! Don’t be rude. She was nice!” Cas scolded.

“What?! I am a demon, remember? I don’t have manners.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“Okay, look. Like I said, the first trial is the burning of herbs. Shamanic smudging, or whatever. It says here: ‘the burning of certain herbs and incense was seen as a way of gaining access to the soul, cleansing, purification, and protection for ceremonial or spiritual use. The inhalation of these herbs triggers the banishment of negative energies and creation of sacred space.’ So that doesn’t sound like total bullshit.”

“I have seen it done many times. Does it say what herbs are needed?

“It says we need to find the coordinating herb group. Like there is Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, et cetera. Whatever the hell that means.”

“They don’t mean the planets. Each planet was named after someone in Roman mythology. Saturn, after the God of Capitol and Agriculture. Jupiter, God of Sky and Lightening. Mars, God of War. Venus, Goddess of Love and beauty. I’m sure you have heard of them before. I believe we must decide the reason my soul needs purification. The thing that tore it apart. Then, pick the coordinating Roman God and use their herb group for the smudging.”

“So, which one do we use?”

“Mars.”  
Cas felt a shiver down his spine. War. It had been the reason for it all. The hatred, the greed, the heartache. It killed and broke every person that he had ever loved. He tried to block out the film reel in his head, but he couldn’t. His brothers and sisters killing each other in cold blood, he hated to even call most of them family. The desperation he felt as he tried to stop it. He just wanted peace. Which, ultimately, caused more damage. He tried so hard and loved so deeply and sacrificed himself so willingly. Only to be brought back every time, worse. The lives he ended… the numbers were unfathomable. War made him a monster.  
“Definitely Mars.”

Dean just nodded knowingly. “Ya sure it wasn’t Saturn? Agriculture can really fuck some shit up.”

Cas kicked his foot again and smirked.

“So, what do we need?”

“Aloe, basil, black pepper, pine, blessed thistle, hops, cayenne pepper, garlic, hawthorn, broom, wormwood, barberry, tarragon, and nettle.”

Cas looked up from his food that he had been mindlessly playing with. “Do you really think this will work, Dean? Is it even worth it?”

“If the roles were reversed, would you let me just fade away without trying?”

“No, of course not. You know that.”

“Then it’s settled. I will try any crazy theory that any of these dusty books say because it’s better than sitting around when I could have done something. So finish your damn eggs, we need to go to Wal-Mart.”

Dean and Cas walked out of the diner, but not before The Waitress Named Dana could slip her hand into Cas’ back pocket and leave her number with a little “xo” at the end. Dean saw her do it and burned out of the parking lot while a flush ran up his cheeks. It may or may not have had something to do with the fact that Dana sort of groped Cas’ ass as she did it. But, who can say for sure.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow actual plot developments


	12. Force of Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took a while. I was trying to make it actually sort of realistic and not make everything up. So, I also love Cas speaking different languages. It's my favorite thing ever. I will put the translations in the end notes. I hope you like the chapter. I also love trueform!cas so this whole chapter is me sort of just gushing.
> 
> Also! If you want a REALLY good bilingual Cas fic then read this one: http://archiveofourown.org/works/909229?view_full_work=true
> 
> It is so beautiful I was a disaster when I read it.

They returned to the motel an hour later with a plastic bag full of herbs. When the lady at the checkout gave him a wary look, Dean said, “I am making salsa… lots of… salsa…” To which Cas had snorted.

Once they got back, Dean got out the wooden bowl he’d purchased and opened the bottles while Cas measured the herbs and mixed them in slowly. Dark clouds had rolled into town and darkened the motel. The room began to fill with the aroma of spices. Dean licked his index finger, stuck it into the mixture, and brought it up next to his mouth. He raised a challenging eyebrow at Cas.

“You will surely regret that.” Cas warned.

“What’s one more thing to add to the list?” He then stuck his finger coated in spices into his mouth and licked it clean. Dean started violently hacking and choking. His eyes were watering profusely.

“Imbecile.” Cas shook his head and continued to mix the herbs while Dean ran to the sink, hurdling over everything in his path.

Eventually, Dean returned with a raw voice and red eyes. “Okay, are we gonna do this thing er what?”

Cas squinted at Dean, “I think you need a lozenge.”

“Just do the damn thing.”

“I believe that before you complete this ritual you must recite The Hippocratic Oath.”

“I’m sorry, what about hippos?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “The Hippocratic Oath. It’s an oath historically taken by physicians and physician assistants. It is one of the most widely known of Greek medical texts. It requires a new physician to swear, upon a number of healing gods, to uphold specific ethical standards. Of historic and traditional value, the oath is considered a rite of passage for practitioners of medicine in many countries. Most magical practitioners were still obligated to recite it. I believe that it must be recited in the presence of a ritual of these sorts in order for the trial to work. It’s the only way it will get results.”

“Okay, well do you know what it is?”

“Yes. But, it is very long and it’s in Greek.”

“How convenient! I’m fluent in Greek.”

“That is sarcasm.” Cas half-stated and half-questioned.

“Nothing gets past you, Hot Wings.”

Cas gave him a stern look. “Anyways, it just has to be spoken and heard. No specifications as to who must do the speaking. Lucky for you, I am fluent in every language.”

“Wait, really?” Dean looked surprised though he knew he really shouldn’t be.

“Oui, bien sûr. Je suis un ange du seigneur. J’entends et je comprends toutes les prières.”

Dean stared at him with a slacked jaw and wide eyes. Cas paid him no attention.

Castiel took a deep breath. A low rumble came from the clouds and they began pouring rain. The two men stood around the bowl of herbs in the dark. When Cas spoke, his voice was low like the day they met. It was animalistic and borderline terrifying. Dean knew he was serious and he just could not take his eyes off of Cas. Most of the time, Dean could poke fun at him and joke, it was easy. He was dorky and soft-spoken and naive. But then, out of nowhere, Cas became _Castiel._ This omnipotent creature with this raw divine power originating from the dawn of time. When they met, it was the first time Cas had inhabited a vessel in hundreds of years. Jimmy’s body barely contained him. Castiel was a force of nature, he was like ocean tides and passing time. He was the blinding white light. It was only visible when he was cut deep or if he was healing someone. Dean so easily forgot that this is what Cas was. He was not the fragile skin or the ruffled hair or the tired eyes. Moments like this, Dean had a hard time forgetting.

Cas closed his eyes and began The Oath, “Orkízomai apó ton Apóllo̱na, ton therapef̱tí̱, tou Askli̱pioú, ti̱s Ygeías, tou kai Panákeia, kai paírno̱ gia na vevaió̱sei óla tous theoús, óles tis theés, na kratí̱sei análoga me ti̱n ikanóti̱tá mou kai ti̱n krísi̱ mou, ton akóloutho órko kai ti̱ symfo̱nía:”

Castiel's accent was flawless, he spoke like it was his native tongue.

"Na exetásei to endechómeno agapi̱té mou, tous goneís mou, af̱tón pou mou dídaxe af̱tí̱ ti̱n téchni̱? na zí̱soun apó koinoú me af̱tón kai, eán eínai aparaíti̱to, na moirastoún ta agathá mou me ton? Gia na doúme metá apó ta paidiá tou, i dikí̱ mou adelfoí, na tous didáxei ti̱n téchni̱? kai óti me ti̱ didaskalía mou, tha metadó̱sei ti̱ gnó̱si̱ ti̱s téchni̱s af̱tí̱s me ti̱ dikí̱ mou gious, kai stous gious tou daskálou mou kai stous mathi̱tés pou desmév̱etai me symvólaio kai órko sýmfo̱na me tis iatrikés nómous, kai óchi tous állous…”

Cas continued to recite The Oath. Time seemed to pass all too quickly for Dean. The weight of how powerful and old Cas was hit him like a train. A sudden surge of warmth ran through his body. Dean quickly came to fully realize who he was dealing with, and he was beautiful. Then, even quicker, Dean realized how desperately he needed to save him and not just to settle a debt.

Cas finished The Oath and Dean hadn’t even noticed until Cas was motioning at him to ignite the flame, “Dean.”

“Right, sorry,” he lit the match and threw it into the bowl. The smoke began to rise and travel into their lungs. The pepper and nettle stung their throats. It became infectious. Cas knew the trial was working, he felt it. A faint warmth seemed to fill his veins for a fleeting moment. He looked up to smile at Dean, who was, of course, already smiling back.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas.” He said barely above a whisper.

“I think it worked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 1) "Yes , of course. I'm an angel of the lord. I hear and understand all prayers."
> 
> 2) Hippocratic Oath: "I swear by Apollo, the healer, Asclepius, Hygieia, and Panacea, and I take to witness all the gods, all the goddesses, to keep according to my ability and my judgment, the following Oath and agreement:
> 
> To consider dear to me, as my parents, him who taught me this art; to live in common with him and, if necessary, to share my goods with him; To look upon his children as my own brothers, to teach them this art; and that by my teaching, I will impart a knowledge of this art to my own sons, and to my teacher's sons, and to disciples bound by an indenture and oath according to the medical laws, and no others.
> 
> I will prescribe regimens for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone.
> 
> I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel; and similarly I will not give a woman a pessary to cause an abortion.
> 
> But I will preserve the purity of my life and my arts.
> 
> I will not cut for stone, even for patients in whom the disease is manifest; I will leave this operation to be performed by practitioners, specialists in this art.
> 
> In every house where I come I will enter only for the good of my patients, keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction and especially from the pleasures of love with women or men, be they free or slaves.
> 
> All that may come to my knowledge in the exercise of my profession or in daily commerce with men, which ought not to be spread abroad, I will keep secret and will never reveal.
> 
> If I keep this oath faithfully, may I enjoy my life and practice my art, respected by all humanity and in all times; but if I swerve from it or violate it, may the reverse be my life"


	13. A Fear of Existing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I was late with this one. I am moving to London on Monday and I am like in beast mode with packing and shit so I really wanted to write but couldn't. Angsty and sad one because I hate happiness.

 

Cas knew he should be happy. He knew that he should be thankful that he was spending his last days with Dean. Cas was happy, fuck he was. But this wasn’t real Dean. This was a mask Dean was wearing for his benefit. Cas just saw right through it. He was playing a part, trying to convince Cas that he wasn’t that different. He couldn’t really tell why Dean was doing any of it. But, for whatever reason, Dean kept wearing the mask.

 

Most people would think that this was normal Dean. He put on a good show. But, Cas wasn’t most people, and he definitely knew better. Cas knew Dean inside and out, every expression, every freckle, every quirk. That’s why Cas could see through Dean’s mask. When Dean smiled and it didn’t reach his eyes, when he didn’t sing along with his cassettes, and when every laugh sounded rehearsed, it was painfully obvious.

 

Cas tried desperately to pretend he didn’t notice that this wasn’t his Dean Winchester, and sometimes he succeeded. That was was enough to keep Cas going. But, despite his best efforts, Dean couldn’t always trick him. In those moments when Dean faltered, Cas felt so much closer to dying.

 

_____

 

Although Dean still had his character, knew he was empty inside. He knew that he was trying to fill the void with Cas. Like I said before, when demons want something it consumes them. He wanted to feel happy and in control again. Cas had always given him that so Dean clung to the angel and devoting his time to fixing him.

 

Still, he felt the need to kill rising in his gut. God, he was just itching for it. Dean tried to cover it up as best as he could around Cas. He knew he couldn’t leave him in his current state, even for an hour to hunt. But his blood was just fucking boiling. Dean needed to kill so badly that he wasn’t thinking straight. At one point, he even looked at Cas and thought, ‘he wouldn’t even put up a fight.’ That thought wasn’t him and the second after he’d had it Dean felt like he would puke. Moments like that reminded Dean that he was a monster now. Moments like that made Dean hate who he had become.

 

Despite the fact that he loved to kill, and despite the fact that he didn’t want to be human, he didn’t want to be a demon. Fuck, he never wanted to be anything. Dean wanted to slip away out of existence. That way he could stop fucking everything up. Dean had always felt this paralyzing anxiety at the notion that he affected things. It was terrifying to Dean to know that however hard he tried to stay a bystander, that any decision he made could change the course of history. Like the butterfly effect, one flap of a wing could cause a hurricane on the other side of the world. Yeah, Dean and Sam had done a pretty shitty job at staying out of the spotlight and not messing with the course of history. But, Dean’s history only intensified his anxieties. He hated knowing that his life could touch other things and people. Dean had always known that everything he touched, he broke. That thought echoed in his ears to this day in a voice that sounded curiously like John Winchester. 

 

So yeah, Dean knew he was supposed to be ruthless and kill everyone in his path. A huge part of him wanted to. He was supposed to be a force of nature, just like Cas. But, fears like that stay with a someone and fight against your better judgement. The mark had changed him. It made him do and think things that he would never do, i.e fantasizing about killing his best friend who’s life he was simultaneously trying to save. Essentially, there was a war in Dean’s head.

Wanting to kill and create chaos, wanting to save people and restore order, and wanting to stop existing all together.

It was a war he would never win.

 

_____

 

So, there they sat. The Knight of Hell and The Knight of Heaven, both fighting wars that they would never win and just trying to hold onto a man that didn’t exist anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester, as always, is very very complicated. 
> 
> Sorry for the emotional interlude, we will soon return to the scheduled programming.


	14. Lost Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> TW: blood and vomit.  
> It gets sort of graphic at a few points. very sorry.

Cas spent the majority of the afternoon gripping the toilet bowl. Dean occasionally brought him water or a blanket. He went to the front desk and purchased a travel sized mouthwash. Dean wanted to do more, but he really just didn’t know how. He started to furiously flip through his books to distract himself. Dean’s body was exhausted and it ached everywhere. A fierce headache had hatched right between his eyes. Nonetheless, he kept reading. He couldn’t mess this up. Not when every couple minutes he heard Cas retching into the toilet or hacking wet coughs into his hands. He thought, or at least hoped, that the first trial would make Cas stronger. But, much like with Sam, he just seemed weaker.

 

After a few hours, Cas rasped out Dean’s name, barely above a whisper. He frantically ran to the bathroom, tripping over everything in his path.

 

“Coming!” he shouted, “What do you need?” 

 

Dean swung open the door, worry etched into his face.

Cas was sweating and shaking and his skin looked a sickly shade of green. He was still wearing Dean’s sweatshirt but it had bits of vomit on the sleeves. The room reeked of stagnant stomach bile. Cas looked up at Dean and that’s when he saw the stains of blood around the corners of Cas’ white lips and down his chin.

 

“You.” The angel rasped out. It sounded like he had been gargling gravel for hours. 

 

Dean dropped on one knee in front of him. He ran his thumb along Cas’ chin and mouth, inspecting the blood stains. “Cas, man, when did you start coughing up blood?” Dean’s voice was soft and shaky. Cas diverted his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry about the smell in here,” he deflected.

 

“Damnit Cas, when did this start?!” He felt his chest tighten and tried to catch the angel’s gaze fall. Cas was silent. “I cannot help you if you hide things, okay? Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Be honest with me, Cas.” Dean’s voice was firm and Cas knew he was trying to keep it together.

 

“I was going to tell you, Dean. It’s just—” Cas’ stomach lurched and he turned around just in time to vomit into the toilet. Dean dropped his head and rested a hand on Cas’ back to soothe him. After a few moments, Cas stopped hacking and choked out his words into the bowl, “You are a demon, Dean,” he spit out some bile and resumed, his words echoing off the porcelain, “and not just any demon. You are a Knight of Hell, amongst the most ruthless and powerful creatures ever to exist.” He lifted his head out of the bowl and turned towards the other man, “It is a great shock to me that you have elected to stay by my side as long as you have. I didn’t want to tell you because, if you knew how weak I was, you would leave. Because, if you thought I was a lost cause, like I know I am, you would leave. Demons rarely waste energy on useless tasks and never on sentiment. So, you cannot blame me for withholding some information from you, Dean. I’m just sorry that you had to find out.”

 

Cas watched as Dean’s face turned a deep shade of red and his eyes clouded with black smoke. Dean’s fists were impossibly tight by his side and lips were pressed into a sharp line. He looked hurt and bitter, Dean looked at him like he was a stranger.  Cas was scared. The angel watched with a pain in his chest as Dean walked out, slamming the door and leaving Cas alone. He heard heavy boots echoing off the walls and then trailing away. The motel door slammed shut. Just like that, he had officially lost Dean. Castiel knew that the words he had spoken were true. He was just praying (to whoever listened these days) that Dean wouldn’t believe them. But, evidently, he had. Any will that Cas had at that point to continue on was ripped from him. He couldn’t shake this feeling that the room got suddenly ice cold. The feeling that the air had been sucked out of the room and that Dean was his soul source of oxygen. He suddenly found himself desperately trying to save the feeling of Dean’s hand trailing up and down his back. He tried to savour the smell of Dean, but all he could smell was stomach acid and stale puke. He felt the towering wave of isolation swallow him whole and Cas was drowning. Salty, hot tears started to pour down Cas’ bruised cheekbones as he emptied whatever was left from his stomach. He was dry heaving and this time it was not from the grace. Minutes passed like hours to Cas as he clung tightly to the porcelain bowl and silently sobbed, gasping for breath and wishing death to come quickly. He cursed himself for not being able to conjure up enough strength to go after Dean. His body simply had no fight left in it. All the while his mind was crying out to his legs, willing them to work. 

 

Cas became so lost in his mind that he didn’t hear the door open. Nor did he hear shuffling of boots or shallow breaths of the man behind him. Castiel, however, did feel a warm, steady hand on the nape of his neck. He jumped at the sudden contact. Cas turned to find Dean kneeling in front of him. His face wasn’t angry, nor was it happy. He was almost expressionless, deeply concentrated. The demon did not meet Cas’ eyes. He slowly began to assess Cas’ damage with the pad of his thumb and wandering green eyes. He reached behind him to retrieve a large cup of warm water and several dish towels. He dipped a towel into the steaming water and began to dab it onto Cas’ chin. Softly wiping off remaining blood, bile, sweat, and vomit. Dean moved delicate and concentrated hands up Castiel’s face, blotting away tear tracks and grease. As one hand worked slowly to clean, the other was still firmly planted on the back of the angel's neck, rubbing slow circles into the muscle tissue. He kept soaking the rag in the hot water and letting it drip down Cas’ skin. Dean still hadn’t met his eyes. He just focused on the task at hand. He let the water sink through Cas’ thick dark brown hair and down his scalp. The angel leaned into every touch and felt his body relax, not fully believing what was happening. The hand resting at the nape of his neck began to card through the curly locks that grew down his neck. The angel closed his eyes and focused on the soft, slow touches. Dean ran the washrag under his chin and found that some puke had dripped down the hollow of Cas’ throat and onto his chest. Dean pulled the vomit stained Bob Dylan hoodie up and off Cas’ body. Cas moved his arms up to accommodate. Dean’s calloused hands radiated heat like the rest of him. They found their way under the t-shirt he had lent Cas the night before. One hand rested on Cas’ bare hip to steady him and the other pealed the shirt off his sweaty skin. Dean wet a new towel down and began to ring it out over Cas as the water dripped down his chest  and all too prominent ribs to pool at his stomach. The hot water, the calloused hands, and Dean’s warmth sank into Cas’ bones. Dean's fingers worked to mend the angel’s shaking body. He worked the washrag down Cas’ biceps, arms, and hands. Dean then pulled on Cas’ forearms so that he was leaning against him. This gave him the space to reach the angel’s sweat soaked back. Cas leaned his head onto Dean’s collarbone as he kneeled over him. Dean squeezed the rag and let the hot water drip down his spine. The demon’s other hand massaged between the angel’s shoulder blades, where his wings used to be. The spot was sensitive and reminded Cas of  The War. But, Dean was gentle and Cas melted under the touch. After being cleaned to Dean’s satisfaction, he snaked his arm around Cas’ waist, another under his knees, and picked him up with no effort. Dean was supernaturally strong, which, I suppose made sense. Cas used to be able to move anvils with ease, and Dean was the arch-angel of demons. Castiel could only imagine the power Dean possessed within him. He sat Cas onto the bathroom counter and leaned his bare back against the cool tile. Cas relished in the contrasting temperatures. Unlike human Dean who would have had reserves about this sort of thing, demon Dean unbuttoned the angel’s jeans. He lifted Cas’ sharp hips and pulled the Levi’s down and off his body. Cas was left wearing only dark blue boxer shorts. He took the washrag and let it drag down the other man’s legs, slowly massaging the tight tissue of his calves. Cas let his head fall back against the tile and focused on every single second of bliss. Dean reached for the floor and picked up a plain white t-shirt among the towels. He slipped it over Cas’ head and onto his torso, letting his hand slide (a little too long) down his ribcage. Dean had still refused to meet Cas’ gaze and acknowledge him. He leaned into Cas’ shoulder and wrapped the angel’s arms around his neck. He gripped Cas along the small of his back and hooked the other under his kneecaps. Dean carried Cas out of the putrid scented bathroom and into the comfort of the bedroom. He laid Cas down on his bed and pulled the top sheet and duvet over his angel. Cas watched closely as Dean tucked him in. It was all so unusually intimate. Dean was soft, protective. This side of Dean was one Cas rarely ever saw and never had he expected to see again. Especially not when Dean was a blood-lusting demon. But, let the record state that Dean’s demonised soul had not expelled his kindness. In fact, it erased his inhibitions about showing it. Cas felt his head sink into the pillow and watched Dean without blinking. He walked over to the table, took a chair, and scooted it up right next to Cas in his bed.

The Winchester sat down in the wooden chair. He bent forward until his elbows rested on his knees and his hands slowly kneaded together in front of him. Finally, Dean looked up at Cas. He held his breath at the sudden stare that Dean bore into him. His eyes were heavy-lidded and he looked almost hurt. Cas hadn’t seen him looking so vulnerable and serious in a very long time.. Finally, and with a breaking voice, Dean spoke, “My feet… they are _always_ going to be firmly planted by your side, Cas. I do not care how lost of a cause you think you are because, hell, I’ve been a lost cause since the moment we met and not once have you given up on me. ‘I would rather have you, cursed or not’ — remember?”

Cas felt a tear threaten to spill down his cheek. He had not understood how much he needed to hear those words. Those words, they were not the words of a murderous demon. They were Dean’s words. Cas couldn’t speak, his throat was too raw. He wanted to say it. He wanted to tell Dean how much he needed him. But, his body betrayed him. All he could manage was a strangled rasp and Dean stopped him.

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. I know.”

Not soon after that, Cas fell asleep with his arm stretched out towards Dean. He mindlessly ran his fingertips over the angel’s inner forearms until he was in a deep sleep.

Dean didn’t get up once that night.  
Much like Cas had done for him in the past, Dean Winchester watched over Castiel while he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is just really gushy and ugh im so hopeless with these two
> 
> also very sorry about them not kissing but i have big plans for that later. bare with me.


	15. Your mentality catches up with your biology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like after the last chapter we needed a little something more. I think they are a really cute and funny and deeply fucked up pair of people. Aw.
> 
> I will put translations in the end notes.

Things were **so fucking complicated**. Dean couldn’t think straight and his insides were on fire. This morning Dean was suddenly more aware of the feeling of tar coating his bones, his eyes burning with black smoke, and The Mark on his arm like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He felt everything. Before, those sensations felt like superpowers. Now, they felt like an illness.  

Damn, why was his head so heavy? These past few days he was feeling so **human**. He had been doing things that he couldn’t really understand. Especially after yesterday, he wasn’t acting like a demon. For example, the whole bathroom-Cas-coddling incident… what the hell was that?! That certainly wasn’t demon. Dean couldn’t explain it to himself, nor could he explain that moment of awe he had staring at Cas during the trial and this overwhelming need to preserve him. That was not demon. And as he sat in the chair and watched Cas wake up, the sun leaking through the curtains to paint his skin yellow, the feeling Dean had in his chest was _definitely, absolutely, 100%,_ not demon.

 “I’m so fucked.” he muttered to himself.

 _____

 Castiel woke up slowly and saw Dean still sitting next to him. He was so beautiful, just sitting there with the sun kissing his shoulders and streaming through his hair. Damn, if he could just sit there forever. If he could just reach out and touch him… If he could just be real. It all _felt_ real. He just wasn’t sure if _just feeling_ would be enough. 

When Dean quirked up the corner of his mouth and looked at him with those emerald-gold eyes, Cas decided that it would be enough for now.  

 _____

 “What’s for breakfast?” Cas looked up and said in a voice thick with sleep.

 “Aesculapian snake venom.” Dean announced, a scheming smile on his lips. 

 Cas rubbed the sleepies from his eyes, stretched and said, “I was craving bacon.”

 Dean chuckled and said, “It’s for trial número dos.”

 Cas cocked his head to the side and in a voice one octave higher asked, “You speak Spanish?”

 Again, Dean laughed at Cas. The smile actually reached his eyes this time. 

 “Oh, hay un montón de cosas que usted no me conoce, bebé,” Dean winked.

 Cas felt his ears getting hot with blush and squinted at Dean.

 “When would you even have lea—?”

 “I watch a lot of shitty daytime television, including Spanish soap operas.” Dean said proudly.

Cas just looked up at the strange man and shook his head. In a deep voice he deadpanned, “Pendejo.”

 Dean threw back his head and laughed, again. This time, his belly was shaking and his face was going red. Damn, **that** was Dean. That was very very very much Dean and _not_ demon… whatever the hell that actually means. Once he composed himself, he got up and threw some clothes at Cas.

 “Get up mi pequeño puto, we are going to get _actual_ breakfast and figure out the game plan for the next trial.”

 Cas rolled out of bed, feeling like he had a bit of his strength back. He pulled on the clothes: jeans, a red flannel, and a dark blue zip up. Dean also gave him some Advil to numb any pain. Cas had never taken a pill before so it took about ten minutes of amused instruction from Dean, followed by confused and frustrated attempts from Cas before he finally choked one down. Dean wrapped Cas’ arm around his neck and guided him out to the Impala, just to make sure his legs didn’t give out. When they finally started the drive to the diner, Dean put in a cassette. The smooth song started to play and I swear, Dean Winchester sang along for the first time in a very long time. _That_ was _definitely_ not demon. 

_ “On the day that your mentality  _

_ catches up with your biology  _

_ I want the one I can't have  _

_ and it's driving me mad  _

_ it's written all over my face”  _

Like I said, things were **so fucking complicated**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song from this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhby4dlOYOg
> 
> 1) "Oh, there are lots of things you do not know me, baby."
> 
> 2) "Pendejo" is literally a single pubic hair. In Mexico´s slang it is used as an insult like idiot or dumbass.
> 
> 3) "Puto" is a name for a male prostitue or a gay guy. Dean said "mi pequeño puto". Meaning "My little puto."
> 
> pssst... Jealous!Dean will appear in the next chapter. He really doesn't like that waitress.


	16. Silver Linings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. I've just moved to London and started school and it has been amazing and so busy and I've been writing this chapter in pieces for like a week and a half and I am so sorry that I've taken so long. I will be updating more consistently for sure!!! I am so so so so sorry. 
> 
> As promised... jealous!Dean 
> 
> and a little bit more.
> 
> Also I want to thank The_Silent_Writer for doing the beta for this story. I love you lots xx.

Before Cas could get his foot in the door he was ambushed by a shock of blonde curly hair.

 "Welcome back to The Fleetwood, sugar!”

 “Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake…” Dean muttered and rolled his eyes, thus granting him an elbow to the ribcage.

 “Two, please.” Cas gave her an apologetic smile.

 The Waitress Named Dana let her gaze obviously fall down Cas’ figure and back up to his blue eyes. “Right this way, cutie-pie.”

 Dean poked his head over Cas’ shoulder and said, “Uh, can I get some crayons please, ma’am?”

 Dana picked up a child’s menu and some crayons for Dean, all the while glaring at him. She led the two to a booth near the window and set menus down on the table.

 “How are you boys doin’ this fine morning?” She asked with an irritatingly smooth voice.

 “Lovely, thank you for asking. How about you?” 

 “Better now that I have a fine customer like yourself to entertain me.” She giggled and let her finger trail down Cas’ bicep.

 Dean actually was about to vomit. He really was.

 “Yes, everyone’s fanfreakingtastic. Moving on. Two rounds of coffee. Black for me. One sugar for Cutie-Pie. Add two big orders of pancakes and bacon. Make it quick, will ya sweetheart?” 

 Cas resisted the urge not to snort.

 Dana’s eyes lowered at Dean with disapproval. In an acidic tone she spat, “Yes, sir.” She then leaned over Cas much lower than necessary to ‘collect the menus’ and made eye contact with Dean the whole time she did.

 He raised a challenging eyebrow at her. Oh, fuck, the game was on.

 “I’ll be back in a flash.” Dana winked at Cas, glared at Dean, and walked away.

 “Dean, control yourself.” 

 He went doe-eyed at Cas and said,“What ever do ya mean, sweetheart?” with a deep southern drawl. 

 Cas tried to hide a grin. “You know what I mean, you ass. What do you have to gain by mocking her?”

 “Satisfaction.”

 Cas threw a crayon at Dean. 

 “She is just being kind.” 

 “She is trying to get into your pants, Sandra Dee.” 

 Cas exhaled deeply and sat back in his seat. After a few moments Cas said, “What did you mean by Aesculapian snake venom?”

 “Oh, right. Yeah, I’m going to inject you with some.” He answered nonchalantly.

 “Excuse me?” Cas leaned forward with wide eyes.

 “Yeah. Something about the Son of Apollo. Asclepiusoisopiooo some shit was a Greek God of Healing. He had this snake-entwined staff. So he was always sorta portrayed as a snake. Well, they named this snake after him and it is used in healing rituals and stuff since like the dawn of time. So, the trial says you need it’s venom. Ergo, I’m going to inject you with snake venom.” He ended with a cheeky smile. 

 “Asclepius. I know of him. These snakes — the Aesculapian Snakes — slithered around freely on the floor in dormitories where the sick and injured slept. They were introduced at the founding of each new temple of Asclepius throughout the classical world. From about 300 BC onwards, the cult of Asclepius grew very popular and pilgrims flocked to his healing temples to be cured of their ills. Ritual purification would be followed by offerings or sacrifices to the god, and the supplicant wou—”

 “Cas, I am so aware of how impossibly intelligent you are. It is abundantly clear and I am in awe, as usual. However, I don’t give two shits about this snake other than where I can find it and how much I need to stick into your arm.”

 Castiel folded his hands on the table and sighed, “The Balkan Peninsula is your best bet. Not very much venom is necessary. A small dose.”

 “Fabulous.”

 Just then, Dean saw Dana rounding the corner with two cups of coffee. He quirked up his lips at Cas with a mischievous grin. Dean spun around the table to sit next to the angel, wrapping an arm around Cas’ shoulder and yanking down his head to rest in the crook of Dean’s neck. Cas went rigid and a wave of confusion washed over his face. 

 “Dean! Wha—” 

 “Shut it, sugar.” 

Dana sauntered over to the table, cocky as ever, with the hot drinks. Once she spotted the two men draped over one another her face went white. She hesitated to approach the table. Dean let out a chuckle. 

 “Two coffees.”

 “Thank you, darlin’.” Dean mused as he carded fingers through the soft hair at the base of Cas’ skull possessively. Out of spite for Dana, of course. Not because he was jealous and actually wanted to. No. Course not.

 Meanwhile, Cas’ heart was out of control. 

 Dana tried her best to hold her composure but she was clearly pissed. Dean had officially won their game. “Your food will be out shortly.”

 “Much appreciated.” Then Dean winked.

 She turned on her heals and stormed off. Dean threw his head back and chuckled. If Cas noticed that Dean let his head fall onto his then he didn’t say anything. Cas just snickered and savoured the moment while he could. 

 “You think you are hilarious don’t you, Dean Winchester?”

 He was still laughing into Cas’ hair, “Yes, yes I really do.”

 If Dean saw Cas close his eyes and smile, he didn’t say anything either. 

After several moments of saying nothing and pretending this was normal, Cas lifted his head out from under Dean’s and rested it on his arm which lay draped over the angel’s shoulder. He wore that concentrated frown that twisted up his face and made his eyes go distant.

 “What is it, Cas?”

 “We are running out of time. I am running out of time.”

 “Cas, buddy, it’s gonna be fine.”

 “I am fading, Dean. My vessel… it’s getting weaker by the hour. I fear that I can only last two more days, approximately.”

 “Two days to fix you. You do know who you are dealing with, right? King of Quick Fixes.”

 “I am being serious, Dean. Listen. If it doesn’t work, or if I go before it can, I want you to know that this is not your fault. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you for staying, my friend.”

 “Hey. It isn’t going to be like that. Stop acting like this is over. Save the goodbye, Cas. I don’t want it. Not yet, okay?”

 Cas sank back into Dean, suddenly feeling exhausted. He didn’t say anything more. Dean let him be. When the food came, Dean didn’t hunch over the table to shovel the pancakes into his mouth. He stayed put and played uncaringly with his food, taking little pieces into his mouth. Dean was focused on the angel perched on his shoulder. 

 Cas had his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. Even when the coffee was shit, Dean knew that he still liked to hold the hot mug. It was comforting to him. He convinced Cas to eat, and eat more. 

 If what he said was true, if he really was fading that fast, Dean wasn’t going to just let him starve.  He wasn’t going to just let him give up. He wasn’t going to just let him say goodbye. Not until they were down to the last second and there was nothing left to do, except let go. 

 Dean and Cas stayed curled up together in that booth. Dean couldn’t quite justify at first why he was so okay with coddling the angel, in public no less. Sure, it started as a joke. But that stopped as soon as it began. If anything, Dean just wanted to protect Cas and hold onto him anyway he could. Cas seemed to be slipping out of Dean’s grasp so quickly that all he could do was hang on and keep him from drifting away. That thought alone justified it for Dean.

 Cas, however, had fully come to terms with wanting Dean a long time ago. 

 ………………

 Dean paid the bill and tip, smirking innocently at the infuriated Dana. 

They drove home in comfortable silence. Zeppelin floated out of the speakers and filled the air.

 

 

_ “Many have I loved - Many times been bitten  _

_ Many times I've gazed along the open road.  _

 

_ Many times I've lied - Many times I've listened  _

_ Many times I've wondered how much there is to know.  _

 

_ Many dreams come true and some have silver linings  _

_ I live for my dream and a pocketful full of gold.  _

 

_ Mellow is the man who knows what he's been missing  _

_ Many many men can't see the open road.” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon, my friends.


	17. Snow Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing good. Thank you for being so kind.

_“Castiel, how could you do this to us? To heaven?”_ He thrashed violently at the words.

 

_“You slaughtered angels, thousands of them. For what? Who are you saving here Castiel?!”_

 

_“Your halo is not so pure, brother.”_ Cas felt his chest constrict while he broke into a cold sweat. The voices echoed off one another, reminding him of how much he had destroyed.

 

_“You are the monster here. Not us. Not them. You.”_ He gripped tightly at his sheets. 

 

_“I don’t have to feel like hell for failing you, like I fail every other godforsaken thing that I care about. I don’t need it.”_

 

He heard himself pleading, _“Stand behind me, the one time I ask.”_

_“Cas, I just can’t.”_

 

_“We’re family. We need you.”_

 

_“End this, Castiel. Kill him.”_ Images of blood staining his hands flashed behind Cas’ eyelids.

 

_“_ **I** _need you.”_

 

Cas never had the common night terrors about monsters or drowning or being chased like most people have. But, the nightmares Cas experienced were the worst kind. They were true. They were ghosts of people who he had wronged. Their voices and their blood haunted him every time he shut his eyes. These days, they were getting worse. They were getting louder.

 

Cas violently jolted awake and found himself sitting upwards in the motel bed, unsure of what rose him. He was hyperventilating and damn near ripping the sheets with his iron grip. 

 

“Cas, Cas, Cas, man, hey easy! Easy. You with me?” Dean had his hand lightly resting on Cas’ shoulder, “Come on man, snap out of it. Just a bad dream. You’re safe.”

 

“Dean?!” he asked incredulously, still half asleep and shaking.

 

“Yeah, man. Breathe. I’m here and so are you. You’re fine. What were you seeing?”

 

Cas slowly came back to reality. Then, looking at the scene around him, he buried his face in his trembling hands. Quietly, Castiel began to sob. He felt so vulnerable and exposed and _guilty_. He slowly shook his head, trying to formulate a response.

 

“You can tell me.” Dean said delicately.

 

Cas lifted his head from his hands. “I hear them. I hear all of you.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Your voices, telling me to stop. Telling me that I was wrong. Telling me that I was hurting you all. I just couldn’t stop any of it. I thou—… I thought I was right, you know? I thought I was helping. Then there was the pit and the riverside and the hellfire and the leviathans and then Metatron and the fall and Theo and then you **died** and I just couldn’t stop any of it, I couldn—” Cas broke off and buried his face in his hands once again.”

 

“Slow down, there, Cowboy. You don’t need to worry about those things anymore. Everyone is fine. You’re fine. Those things that you did, that were done to you, they aren’t you. Not anymore, you hear me?”

 

“Dean, If only you knew how **terrified** I am.” He just fucking broke, “I am so scared of my own hands. I am a monster. I don’t want to be saved, I don’t _deserve_ to be saved. Please. Things are only going to get worse if I live. God forbid I try and help someone, it will only end in disaster. Please, Dean.” He was pleading and not even sure what for, but he couldn’t stop.

 

Dean gently told Cas to look up. But, Cas wouldn’t dare look at him. Cas didn’t move. He just turned even more concave. Dean sighed and paused for several moments. He was perched on the side of the bed looking at the floor. Finally he asked, “Have I ever told you about when I was eight years old and I lost Sam?”

Cas tilted up his head curiously. Tear tracks stained his pale cheeks. Dean continued, 

“Sammy had just turned four. Dad left us alone in a motel for a just couple a’ days. He was gone on a case and it was just the two of us. Anyways, I was doin’ alright. I was trying hard to prove that I really could take care Sam. I got him three meals a day. Sometimes I had to give him mine because even then he had a bottomless pit of a stomach. I gave him baths and made sure he went to sleep. I’ll never admit this outside of this room but I even sang to him at night.” Dean looked up at the ceiling and laughed fondly. “That little bastard loved Elton John so much. Anyways, on the third night, I woke up from a bad dream to find that I was alone. I panicked. I had no idea where he could have gone and I was so scared. He was able to walk well on his own without falling over and he could have been gone for hours for all I knew. I searched the whole room and he wasn’t there. I was so damn terrified, Cas. I ran outside and it was bitter and it had began to snow and my heart was in my throat. He was just a baby. I searched for what felt like hours. I was just absolutely screaming his name. I felt helpless and I collapsed on my stomach in a snowbank. I just broke. I didn’t even know how to contact dad, let alone tell him I’d lost Sammy. I didn’t know how to accept that after I’d tried so hard to do the right thing, sometimes it just wasn’t up to me what happened. I was freezing cold, I mean fuck I was only in batman pyjamas and sneakers. It was so dead quiet and I couldn’t even cry anymore cause I was shaking so bad. Then, out of nowhere, I was struck by something cold and wet in the back of my head. I spun around, dumbfounded, to see Sammy. Little ole’ Sammy, just standing in front of the snowbank, giggling with a second snowball in hand. He was wearing his marshmallow coat and his knit hat was backwards and his fingers weren’t all in the right slots in his gloves. He was smirking right at me and trying to look as innocent as possible. I yelled at him because I was relieved and angry and so damn happy. He’d just woken up to see that it was snowing. He told me that he’d gotten dressed in his snow stuff, just like I taught him. He was asking if I was proud of him for doing it on his own. He had been playing in the snow behind the motel and making snow angels. Of course, I was mortified that he’d been out in the snow alone for so long but I couldn’t stay scared or angry and I didn’t know how to respond. So, I just packed some snow and chucked it at the little nerd’s face. We ended up playin’ out there until the sun came up. I didn’t even feel the cold anymore, Cas. I was just having a blast and at dawn I carried that exhausted munchkin into the room and we went to bed. That night, I realised that no matter how hard I tried things would probably go south. That is the nature of things. They get fucked up. You heart can be in all kinds of the right place but at the end of the day, you don’t get to choose the outcome. Somedays, the best you can do is hope that good intentions will be enough. I think I forgot that somewhere between age seven and thirty-five. I believed everything was my fault, that I needed to save everyone. I believed that I’d failed everyone I loved. In truth, a few times I did and it was no one else’s fault. Yes, my heart was in the right place, but it got messy. You know, some say that there are people who have too much heart. But bottom of the ninth inning, I would always pick the person with too much heart over anyone else because they fight the hardest for what they love. That being said, I think those are the ones that fall the hardest too, and they are the last to deserve it.” He looked up from the floor and at Cas, who was staring right at him with those huge watery baby blues, “ And I think that maybe that isn’t very far off from you, Cas.”

 

_…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, once again.  
> x


	18. Yes Homo (and also snakes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say how sorry I am. I seriously slacked on this one. I moved to London, started uni, went to Denmark, wrote a million papers and made like 9 films. I had no time but I never stopped thinking of you.
> 
> This one is short(er) but I am back in the game and will update MUCH MUCH more frequently. 
> 
> All my love

They’d just gotten home when Dean left for the Balkan Peninsula. By left, I mean flew. He could do that now, he was a demon and all. Cas was bitterly reminded that _he_ no longer _had_ wings, he barely even had the ability to walk now. Although, he did have to admit that Dean’s wings were quite prodigious. He didn’t have much grace left, but he had enough to see some of Dean’s true form. Even if it was only at certain moments or if his vision was clouded, he could see. Cas could just make out a pair of horns jutting from his skull and curling towards the sky. He could see sunken black eyes, and threatening teeth. Those he preferred not to see. His wings were dragon like and dark. They were immense and frightening. But, Cas couldn’t help finding them a tiny bit awesome. Mostly because Dean couldn’t stop talking about how “friggin’ badass” he looked with them. Truthfully, Cas always had a thing for wings anyways. 

 

Cas had just turned on the tv when he was rudely interrupted by a newly returned and cursing Dean.

 

“COCKSUCKING MOTHER OF GOD!” 

 

“Wow, okay. That’s rude.”

 

“Not to insult your grandma, Cas, but that motherfucking snake bit me!”

 

He had two puncture wounds on his forearm that looked more like paper cuts than anything. 

 

“Outmatched by a tiny snake, I’m surprised at you. I think you are going soft, Winchester.”

 

“It may not have been fuckin’ Nagini but, it still burned like all hell.” He sighed and then seemed to remember his winnings. Dean pulled a vial out of his pocket and raised it ceremoniously to the ceiling and said, “Hey! I still got the venom though!”

 

He retrieved a syringe from his bag and moved to sit next to Cas on the couch. He turned off the tv and turned to Cas. 

 

“You ready for this?” Dean’s eyes flickered up to search Cas’ face. 

 

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

Cas rolled up his sleeve and extended an arm out towards Dean. Castiel noticed how his large hands were surprisingly dexterous. Dean’s fingers trailed down the blue lines that were barely concealed by the pale skin that stretched over them. Dean seemed to not notice that his other hand was rubbing light soothing circles on Cas’ palm.

 

Cas laughed a little to himself because this was just so gay. Honestly, it was just ridiculous not to acknowledge it to himself when his life was this soon to over.

 

“What’s so funny, hot wings?”

 

“This is usually the part where you say ‘no homo’, is it not?”

 

“Excuse me?” Dean pinched up his face.

 

Cas was just snickering now, he drew his eyes to where Dean was lightly massaging his palm,“Are you serious right now?”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He looked a bit annoyed at the joke he wasn’t understanding.

 

“Nothing, never mind. Stupid thought. Just nostalgic. Please, do continue.”

 

Dean stared at him for a bit, as he usually did and looked confused, if not slightly irate. Then after searching the angel’s face, he filled the syringe with amber liquid from the vile. He clenched his fist as Dean punctured the most prominent vein in his inner elbow. The venom burned as it began to mix with Cas’ blood. Dean had almost emptied the syringe when Cas cried out, “FUCK, okay that stings like hell!”

He clutched his arm and tightened up his face in agony. The last trial had awarded him with a faint warmth. This _hurt_. It was a steady slow burn in his bones like glowing embers. It was really fucking irritating. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey, buddy, you good?” Dean managed to keep his voice from cracking with worry. But, his face was not as sneaky.

 

Cas’ muscles were tense until it finally passed and he was able to breathe again.

“I think it worked,” he managed through laboured breaths, “It was worse than last time though. If we ever finish this, I fear what the third trial brings.”

 

Dean sighed and resumed his usual demeanour, “Look at you, afraid of a little shot. Wanna band-aid, Commander? I have Hello Kitty.”

 

“Did I or did I not hear you burst in this room screaming obscenities not five minutes ago?”

 

Dean, lacking a good response, just flicked a stray Cheeto at him.

 

“You are insufferable” Cas mumbled to himself, mostly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it was short. One trial left, this is where shit is gonna hit the fan in the next several chapters. Buckle in, motherfuckers.


	19. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long. I'm so sorry about my extended absence. My life has become unbelievably chaotic. I am in post production of my final film for my first year at uni. It is coming along nicely buy has been occupying almost all my time. I am so sorry! I've never stopped thinking about this project or all of your support. I just want to make sure I am not rushing it because that wouldn't be fair. Don't wanna half-ass it. So, here I am, full assing it. 
> 
> Much love,  
> McKenna

Castiel’s hand hovered over the receiver. He should have done this by now.  
Dean wasn’t in. He’d run out to pick up dinner. Cas had just enough time.

The dial tone was deafening. Cas scrubbed a hand down his two day stubble as dread crept up his spine.

A husky voice answered with, “ _Special Agent Morrissey, who’s this_?”

Cas all but whispered, “Sam?”

He bit his tongue and waited.

“ _…Cas? Cas, is this you_?”

The younger Winchester sounded tired, the kind of tired you can’t sleep off.

“Yes, Sam. It’s me.”

“ _Where the hell have you been, man?! I thought you were dead! Where are you?!_ ” he was angry. He had every right to be.

“I’m so sorry. I- I should have called. I should hav—”

“ _I prayed to you! I called on you every day. Dude, you just fucking left. How could you—_ ” he paused to catch his breath, “ _I lost my brother, Cas_.”

“I know, Sam. I was so wrong. I should have called. I left at the worst time. I just couldn’t face you, knowing I let you down, I—” his voiced began to shake so he stopped himself.

“ _Let me down?_ ” His voice was harsh and unfamiliar, “ _No, Dean **dying** wasn’t when you let me down. However, you **leaving** me to grieve and search for him alone, **that** was when you let me down._ ” Cas could hear Sam trying to gather his thoughts. He caught his breath and when Sam spoke he sounded like himself again. “ _Cas, where are you? Are you, like… okay?_ ”

“I haven’t got long. I am fading quickly. But, Sam I have something very important to tell you.”

“ _Uhm, alright_.” He sounded hesitant.

Cas’ hand began to cramp as it clutched the phone with all his remaining strength.

“I found him, Sam. I found Dean.”

Sam took a sharp intake of breath, “ _You what_?”

Just then, the motel door burst open. Dean’s hand were full with bags presumably filled with cheeseburgers, “Daddy’s home!” he announced.

“ _Is that— is that Dean!?_ ” Sam yelled.

“Who ya talkin’ to?” Dean asked as he flopped lazily onto the bed beside him.

Cas froze. The brothers spoke in unison,

“Cas?”

“ _Cas?_ ”

Sam yelled through the phone, “DEAN?! IS THAT YOU?!” just loud enough for Dean’s demon ears to hear it.

His eyes flashed to black, just like that he flipped.  
Cas still couldn’t answer. He didn’t know how.

“Hang up the god damn phone, Cas. Now.”

“ _Where are you!? Somebody answer me damnit!_ ”

“You have exactly 3 seconds to end the call before I slice your neck open.” His voice was downright animalistic.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Cas whispered.

 _*click*_  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You ungrateful, delusional, piece of shit. What did you think was gonna happen? That you would call him? That he’d fix me? That we’d be the fucking Brady Bunch again?”

“No! I didn’t—Dean, please, hear me out—” He felt himself shrinking into the motel bed.

“No.” The demon crept towards Cas. He looked like a wolf closing in on prey. “I wasted one life believing your sweet shit excuses. I’m not wasting another. You betrayed me.”

“I wasn’t going to tell him anything more! I just believe that I owe it to Sam to tell him you’re alive! I didn’t even contact him once since your death! It just didn’t seem right!”

Dean’s upper lip trembled with anger, his jaw clenched. “You owe Sam? You owe me, bitch. I’m the one here saving your skin,” he shook his head ruefully. “I should have left you on the floor of that bar. I should have let you stew in your sweat and vomit until you got it over with and just died already. For chrissake, you would have saved us all some trouble.”

Cas didn’t know when he started crying, but he knew he wasn’t going to stop.  
“You don’t mean that.”

“Sweetheart, you already know I do.” Though, Dean already that knew he didn’t.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I—I can’t help it. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“You always do. But, it isn’t the path to Heaven that’s paved with good intentions, is it?”

Dean glared down at him with disgust. Jesus, he felt so powerless.

“Tell me how to make you stay? I’ll do anything, Dean. Please. Please. I can’t — I can’t lose you. I don’t know how to— I can’t be—” He was panicking now. “I’m the reason for all of this, it’s on my shoulders. I—I need to make you stay. I’ll do anything for you. Please, Dean. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve your kindness. But, I’m begging you to show me mercy. I’ve seen my mistake. I’ll—”

“I do love watching you beg. God, are you _that_ infatuated with me that you’d fucking plead a demon to sit by your death bed?”

Cas made a noise that could have been interpreted as very distorted, self-loathing laughter.

“Yes. I am.”

“Oh, so you **are** braindead.”

“Must be.”

The phone rang again. Cas was too scared to move let alone answer. To his surprise, Dean did it himself.

“Hiya, Sammy!”

“ _DEAN?!_ ”

“In the flesh. Listen, it’s nice to catch up with you, little bro. But, let’s not beat around the bush here.” His tone turned venomous, “ You will not track this call. You will not look for me. You will not set foot within mutual state lines. You will not so much as google me, you pest. Your limbs will be scattered across continents before you so much as think of disobeying me. Kapish?” He hung up the phone.  
 

Dean took his duffle bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. As he moved to the door, something inside Cas broke. 

“You coward,” he said flatly.

“Excuse me?” Dean seemed amused at the very notion.

“You fucking coward. This isn’t about Sam. He will never succeed in finding you so what is the harm done? No. This isn’t about the call. You are scared.”   
He dropped his duffle and was crowding Cas against the headboard in an instant.  
“Fuck you.”

“You are.” Castiel didn’t flinch. “Every time you start to feel happy you run. You run and you fabricate some massive injustice to validate it. These past few days you’ve begun to feel comfortable around me. We’ve regained our bond. But, you are scared of what it means if you begin to feel again. What? Are you afraid you’ll choose humanity?”

“I’ve made my choice,” he growled into Cas’ face.

“Are you content with what you’ve chosen? Ensuring total damnation on those you swore to protect? Being Crowley’s lapdog? Fucking some demon that’s wearing the skin of a girl you could have potentially harassed in a dive-bar two months ago?” Cas’ voice dropped thunderously low. “Is that where you’ve found satisfaction? You are who you’ve ‘always wanted to be’? Please. I can see right through you, angel or not. You aren’t happy. You are numb.”

“That’s mighty rich coming from the self-righteous saint who destroyed Heaven and Earth all because he had a school girl crush. Are you happy with what you chose? Ripping up the rules so you could follow me into the fire? Tearing apart creation to save one guy? Hell, why do you think I died? Because you were too damn careless to realize that you’d already lost me.” Dean was clutching at Cas’ collar and painfully shoving him into the headboard. “You were just so desperate for my stamp of approval that you dug all our graves in the process. Congrats, Cas. Are you happy? Cause you look pretty fucking numb to me.”

“Where do you think I learned that, Dean? Maybe from watching you and Sam in your co-dependent, self-sacrificing, toxic relationship, stemming from your constant need to prove your devotion. I broke the order? It was broken because of you. Because you and Sam couldn't just let go. And you know what? I get it. I fucking understand because I’m doing the same thing right now. Why do you think I spent my final months searching for you? Why do you think, even after all you’ve said to me, I still don’t believe it? Because I need to have an inkling of hope that you’ll choose humanity. Because I need you, alright?”

To Cas’ overwhelming surprise, Dean loosened his grip. He’d fully expected a knife to be lodged into his sternum at any second. Dean’s eyes flicked back to green and he shook his head. It seemed as though he’d just woken up. He patted down Cas’ mangled clothing and avoided his gaze. Cas searched Dean’s face for recognition or a smart ass response. Nothing came.

The Winchester, turned on his heels, b-lined it to the bathroom, and slammed the door.

Cas buried his head in his shaking hands and lost control.  
Just beyond a cheap motel door, Dean Winchester was doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter made me tear up


	20. Jude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNING!!!:  
> POV panic attack and suicidal thoughts/actions  
> Graphic  
> \--------  
> ALSO IMPORTANT!!!!! **  
> This chapter's 2nd half relies on special text formatting that ao3 doesn't allow. So I've linked that portion.
> 
> http://gallifreywaits.tumblr.com/post/114940349054
> 
> It'll make sense in a second

Now wasn’t this just so painfully familiar, Dean thought. Him and Cas. One possessed by something evil, trying to kill the other. Pleading, bargaining, rage. Then, the confession. 

_“I need you. I need you, Cas.”_

With those words the connection breaks, eyes clear, unmasked hurt taking it’s place. The apology. Then, the fleeing. That’s where Dean was now. 

_“Because, I need you, alright?”_

That was all it took. That was all it would ever take.

Dean leant against the cool tile of the bathroom. His back was covered in a cold sweat that made his t-shirt stick. He was loosing grip quickly. Shaking, pale, sick. This was wrong. The mark was itching something awful and at this point he couldn’t help but scratch until he bled. 

 

**Demon**.

I’m a demon. 

I’m a **demon**. 

I want to be a demon.

Was always gonna be a demon. 

Bloodlines don’t lie.

Cain, Abel. 

**Sammy.**

Am I going to have to kill him too?

I **want** to kill him. 

Why?

He’s my brother. 

Right?

No. 

He hates me.

I hate me.

This was **supposed** to happen.  
**I was always evil.**

Dad knew it.  
I can hear him now. 

Mom didn’t think I was evil. 

She’s **dead** , you  stupid _son of a_ _bitch_ _._

Cas didn’t think I was evil.

Told me my soul was clear. 

Told me I was **righteous**. 

Cas lies. 

Cas **always** lies.

Cas called Sam. 

Cas  betrayed me.

I want to kill him.

I don’t wanna to kill him. 

I want to save him .

Needs me to save him. 

**Needs me.**

Need him .

 

I need to die. 

I want to die.

I don’t know what’s happening. 

I don’t know.

What’s happening.

Screaming.

I am going to _die_ in here.

I am going to die **right now.**

**I can’t feel my skin.**

Why is someone screaming. 

My bones ache. 

My arm is wet.

Where’s Cas.

**Need Cas.**

So far away.

I can hear screaming. 

Am I screaming?

**Mom?**

Hey, Jude. 

She is screaming.

Don’t make it bad. 

Take a sad song. 

and make it better. 

Pounding.

Remember to let him into your heart.

Then you can start to make it better. 

Her voice is so beautiful.

And anytime you feel the pain.

Like an angel.

What is that smell?

Hey Jude, refrain.

Pounding.

Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders. 

a voice.

For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool.

By making his world a little colder.

_Dean!_

Na na na na na na 

Na na na na

Na na na na

Hey, Jude.

Na na na na na na 

_Dean, please._

Na na na na

Drown him out. 

Na na na na

Na na na na 

Na na na na

Na na na na

Na na na na 

Na na na na

Na na

…

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be uploading the next chapter this evening.  
> Thank you.


	21. Radial Artery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! VERY IMPORTANT:  
> Graphic depictions of violence.  
> Self harm.  
> Panic attack.  
> Blood.
> 
> I am so fucking sorry. Things wil be okay. It's gotta hurt first before it gets better.

The adrenaline had gone too soon and Cas was overcome with exhaustion. He’d just begun drifting out of consciousness when he heard mumblings from the bathroom. 

Cas moved quickly to the bathroom door. He wasn’t coherent. Dean’s words were nonsensical and his breath was laboured. He was talking to himself almost as if he were two people.

Something was wrong. It didn’t feel right at all. 

“She’s dead, you stupid son of a bitch.” His voice was clear that time.

Who the hell was he talking to? Castiel flinched when he heard items being flung across the room. Dean’s voice was low as he muttered terrible things under his breath. Cas couldn’t catch full sentences. But he could catch enough to know that Dean was not in his right mind. 

“I want to kill him.” 

He knew that was about him. Although Cas wasn’t scared by the words, they broke his damned heart. He normally would let Dean have his space, but the air just felt different. Dean was never like this. His words seemed almost involuntary like he was somewhere else. Cas’ fears were confirmed when Dean uttered,

“I want to die.”

He went for the handle immediately, it was locked as expected. 

“Dean? Are you alright?”

No acknowledgement, he just kept mumbling and panting and pacing. 

Cas jiggled the handle harder. He didn’t think he’d be able to break down the door in his current state. 

“I just want to make sure you are okay! Please, Dean. Just tell me that you want me to go.”

Dean made no acknowledgement. If anything, he was getting louder. He was kicking something and rummaging through drawers. Dean seemed to not even have heard Cas at all. Maybe, Cas thought, he wasn’t ignoring him. Maybe, he wasn’t lucid. 

He was yelling now, “Dean?! Please. Remember where you are! Breathe! It’s okay!”

“Sk—I can’t—feeling my—skin can’t feel skin.” Dean was crying, actually sobbing. 

Cas searched the room for something to break down the door, he was too weak to do it alone. Something began to smell putrid, but Cas couldn’t place it. 

Then, Dean was screaming. It reverberated through the room like thunder. 

Once he started, he didn’t stop.

Cas gave up his search and began pounding on the door. Fuck, he was scared. He hadn’t been this scared in a long time. Cas had never heard Dean scream. He’d yelled, he’d cried, he’d swore at the top of his lungs. But, this was new. This didn’t sound like him. 

“ **Dean, it's Cas! I'm sorry! About it all! The call, what I said, The Mark, my burden. All of it. I'm sorry. Will you please open this door so I can help you?!** ”  

Cas found his own eyes filled with salty hot tears. Once upon a time he could’ve travelled through the wall, silenced his screams with a touch, and put him to bed. He felt absolutely helpless and trapped. He was better than this. He was supposed to be able to stop this. Cas was created to stop this. 

The screaming seemed to cease as it faded into slurred singing. _Singing?_  

“an an-ytime yafeel the paain hey juuude reefrain. don carry the worlda ‘pon your shoulderrs.”

“I need you to open the door. Can you do that for me Dean?”

He heard Dean’s singing start to trail off as his words blended together. Suddenly, Cas knew what that putrid smell was. Blood. Demon blood. 

Without a second thought, Cas took a step back, braced himself, and threw his body through the bathroom door. Adrenaline, maybe. 

He was slouched on the floor against the bathtub, singing softly.

“Na, na, na, na, na, na, na…” 

Dean’s shirt and arm were soaked in dark arterial blood.

“Dean!” Cas immediately reached for a towel to stop the bleeding, and damn was he bleeding fast. His green eyes were rolling back as he struggled to hold up his head.

The bastard was still singing. Cas tied the tourniquet just above Dean’s elbow. Satisfied with it, he inspected the gaping wound. And if his heart could’ve broken even more, at that moment it would’ve.   
  
Dean had attempted to cut, scratch, or anyways, rip off  The Mark of Cain. He’d dug deep into his own flesh and severed an artery. 

Cas didn’t know if Dean could die from this. He was a demon, however, this wasn’t some vessel. This was his own body. He was tied to it. Dean couldn’t just smoke out. 

He cradled Dean’s face in his hands and tried to get his eyes to focus. There was no recognition in them. He was still singing softly, “Na, na, na, na, na, na, na…”

“Come on, Dean, stay awake. _Dean, please._ ”

The Winchester’s eyes began to shut slowly. Cas swore that right before he passed out, Dean gave him a wink and a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through that part of the story. I was dreading writing it for a long time. It also attributed to my delay in updating. I was putting it off. 
> 
> Much love, McKenna.


	22. Mercy, Mercy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so long. Finally back in the states for summer. Big things coming. :)
> 
> (If you wanna cry, listen to Saturn by Sleeping at Last for this chapter. You will know when)
> 
> Love, McKenna.

Cas didn't sleep that night. At 6 am, he looked away from Dean for the first time to watch the sunrise. He thought to himself that this would be the last one he'd ever see. He had expected it to be more glorious than it was.

But, it's hard to find resolve in a new day when all he can think about is Dean's delirious singing and towels soaking up his blood. 

Cas shut the curtains and pressed the heel of his palms firmly into his eyelids. He'd lived too long enough and had seen enough sunrises to not care anymore. He resumed watching over Dean as he slept. 

Just then, Cas decided that his life was in fact far too short. That this was one sight he would never tire of. It sure as hell beat the parking lot sunrise. When a sliver of morning light peeked through the curtains and shone onto the righteous man's snoring face, Cas found his peace. 

Cas wished that it would have lasted longer. But, it wasn't long before Dean's eyes slowly fluttered open. 

"Mornin, Cas." He mumbled groggily and rolled away from the light.

Cas couldn't have stifled a smile even if he wanted to. 

"Hello, Dean."

"What's got you so happy?" He grumbled.

"You're awake. Therefore, alive." 

Dean didn't answer. Cas let him drift in an out a while longer. Finally, he asked if Dean needed anything. To which, Dean replied, "I'm fine." 

Cas got him a glass of water anyways. "I said I'm fine, Cas."

"It's just water." Again, he didn't respond. But, he sipped at the water anyways. 

After last night, Cas had given up all hope for the trials. He was happy to spend his final hours caring for Dean. That is, until during their breakfast of uneaten cheeseburgers from last night, Dean's voice broke the silence. "The third trial. It's, uh, It's sorta confusing-"

"Are you sure that's the best idea? Dean, with what happened, I don't thi-"

"It's okay, Cas. I'm fine." He spoke casually as if nothing had even happened. 

Dean's arm was wrapped tightly in gauze from his wrist to his elbow. Dark circles outlined his green bloodshot eyes. Cas did everything he could with what was at his disposal. He worked most of the night, and with Dean's demon capabilities, he was in a stable physical condition. Though, his mental condition was yet to be determined. 

Cas let out a slow breath through his nose. He knew better. But, Cas would just have to pretend to believe him for now. 

"As I was saying," Dean began, "this trial is kind of, uh, subjective." He seemed hesitant and Cas nodded him on. "It says you have to do what you were made to do. I'm not sure how the hell you're supposed to know that. But basically, the spell says you have to find your soul's intended purpose. Once you do that, it'll put you back to your factory resets."

Castiel dropped his head and looked at the hands folded in his lap. The air in the room suddenly seemed to thin. He closed his eyes and began to laugh. It was cynical and defeated. Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What's so funny?" he mumbled through a mouthful of burger.

"Absolutely nothing." Cas knew exactly what he was made to do. It was never a question for him. So, he knew in complete confidence that they wouldn't finish these trials.

"Do you know what it is?"

"It's not possible, Dean."

Dean dropped his burger and stared. "And why the hell not?" He spat.

"It's not-" Cas' voice shook so he fixed his gaze back onto his lap, "It's not like I haven't been trying."

Dean pushed his chair from the table and began pacing the room angrily, "What is it? I-I mean if you were made to do it then it shouldn't be that hard to do!"

Cas refused to look up. "It's not that simple."

"Make it simple."Cas scrubbed a hand down his face. He would give anything to make this all go away. He put away his untouched burger and moved to sit against his headboard. Dean watched him expectantly as he tried to gather the words and the courage. 

"Please, Dean. Sit down." He spoke softly.

The anger in Dean seemed to deflate as he sat on the foot of Cas' bed. The former angel stiffened his lips and tried to mask the pained look from his eyes. Dean was never supposed to know this, but his loyalties were no longer with those he'd sworn that to. 

"We knew you were coming, Dean. Long before you were born, you were important to Heaven. Top priority. The Righteous Man, the vessel of Michael, the elder Winchester. Dean, your existence, and your survival was key to the natural order. Everything you did was anticipated, every tragedy was planned. There were no mistakes. 

Your mother had to sell her soul and she had to die in that fire. You had to live a life on the road and you had to learn to kill. Sam had to die. You had to go to hell, and you had to break out. It was written long before I was even created. Dean, it's why I was created. I was just one cog in the machine that was built for you. I lived for millions of years because someone had to save you and break the first seal. Millions of timelines and lifetimes were created purposefully just so you could get on the correct path. Now you understand why it always killed me when you said you were worthless. Dean, it was all built for you. You were all that I was built for. Of course, no one expected what came next. You were more than they planned for, you broke all the rules. 

Anyways, I had to watch. I was never allowed to intervene. I watched you grow up, I watched you learn to walk. I watched you kiss your mother goodnight and I knew it was the last time you would see her. I cried for you. I begged to my father, 'Mercy, mercy. Don't break that beautiful boy.' But he never answered. I was there as your father, with whiskey on his breath, hit you over and over. I cried mercy for you then, too. I watched you fight everything we threw at you. When the time came, I watched hell hounds rip the skin from your bones. I was with you in Hell. I sat beside you after you tortured your first soul at the command of Alistar. You cried, and spoke to Sam as if he could hear you. I couldn't do a damn thing to help you. Finally, after all those years in Hell, it was my time. I saved you from the pit. You were so broken, and I felt so privileged to be the one made to heal you. 

When I found out what Heaven was planning, when I discovered their corruption, I was horrified. I thought you'd be rewarded for all your suffering. But, they had other plans. Although my job was done, I held onto the mission. When God brought me back, I think he agreed that my job wasn't over. You still needed saving." 

Cas finally looked up at Dean, his expression was unlike any he'd seen. It was raw and confused and grateful. It was the most human he'd seen Dean look in years. Cas had to look away from him if he was going to finish this. 

"I was born from one of the very first supernovas. I have lived for millions of years. I am a wavelength of cosmic energy and light, and I only exist to save you, Dean." 

Dean just barely managed to miss wiping away a tear before it spilled down his cheek. It was like he was finally seeing Castiel for the first time. He'd never understood the lengths to which Cas had gone for him, never knew the sacrifices he'd made. Dean let the tears go. Cas felt the heavy exhaustion his muscles, but nothing could make him care. Cas felt the hot tears sting his cheeks. He was so damn happy. Dean didn't look to be capable of speaking, so Cas didn't make him.

"I haven't done the best job, Dean. I can't finish the mission. The only way these trials work is if you're cured of being a demon. You've made it clear you don't want that. I don't have the power or time left to cure you even if you'd consent. This is where it ends for me, Dean. I have a few hours at most. I am so tired. All I want is to go for a drive in the Impala, and maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll go in peace. Is that okay with you?"

Dean forced a smile through a thin mask. His voice was weak when he said, "Yeah, Cas. I... I think we can do that."


	23. White Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'm so sorry I took so long. I should have posted this months ago. I didn't know how to write this chapter. It's off of the dream I had (a year ago now) that started this fic. So I wanted it to be right.
> 
> Also, I was working 60 hours a week in a cup factory. I finished two days ago and this was the first thing I did when I was free. 
> 
> This isn't the last chapter. I will be continuing the story. Hopefully, with more frequency. I will be moving back to London this Sunday so give me a week at least. <3

It wasn't long before Cas was slinging his arm around Dean's neck as they limped together out of the motel door. If Cas wanted to go for a drive, Dean was going to give that to him. Cas was wrapped up in every warm piece of clothing they had between the two of them. He ended up layered with two band shirts, a worn navy crewneck, and a Carhartt beanie pulled down to his forehead. Even still, Cas blasted the Impala's heater when Dean went back for the rest of their stuff. They both knew that they weren't coming back here.

He sucked in a breath and let the smell of the Impala settle his nerves. It was all leather polish, fabric softener, and the faint overtones of four decade's worth of french fry grease. There was nothing like it. Cas let his head fall back against the warm leather seat. The engine's low hum was all he could hear, and Cas just melted into it. He heard Dean swiftly slide into the driver's side and felt a light tap on his knee.

Cas opened his eyes to see Dean, wearing a raggedy old red flannel and a smirk that could kill. He looked classic.

"Where to, Cas?"

"We will find somewhere."

Dean put the car into reverse and slipped in a cassette tape. The engine came to life over the soft sound of Simon and Garfunkel.

Cas noticed how the wind ruffled Dean's hair, how it looked a lot more like it used to. Right now, _Dean_ looked a lot more like he used to. With that smile he wore easily and his elbow resting out the window, Cas felt alive.

 _Let us be lovers,_  
_We'll marry our fortunes together._  
_I've got some real estate_  
_Here in my bed._

"I never pegged you for a Simon and Garfunkel kind of guy," Castiel said through a smile.

"I know a good song when I hear one."

Cas rested his head against the window and sighed.

"This is a good song."

"This is a **very** good song," Dean corrected.

Dean quickly got them away from the town and the people and the parking lots, and into the countryside. Cas let his eyes focus on Dean's lips as they quietly sang the lyrics.

 _As we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,_  
_Michigan seems like a dream to me now._

Cas felt his eyes growing heavy and the warmth of the lasting grace dulling. He ignored it for now. Dean was singing and that took precedence. The impala was pushing 80 on a straight shot through open fields.

"I'm going to miss you."

Cas snapped his head to look at Dean, who was already looking back. Cas dropped his head and let his eyes unfocus on the dotted line in the road.

"I'm scared, Dean. I don't know what's waiting for me."

"It's gotta be Heaven, Cas. It's gotta be."

"I'm not exactly on their A-list," He smiled cynically.

Dean honestly giggled. Which prompted Cas to do the same.

"But for real, man. It's your home. You've gotta have some sort of pass."

"Heaven is not my home."

Dean didn't say anything because he didn't have to clarify.

 _And the moon rose over an open field._  
_"Kathy, I'm lost", I said,_  
_Though I knew she was sleeping._  
_"I'm empty and aching and_  
_I don't know why."_

"I don't want to burn your bones, Cas. I don't think I could. What should I do, with you, I mean?"

Cas hadn't thought that far. "I think I want a burial. It's very human."

Dean failed to hide a sad smile while Cas failed to hide his paling complexion. The song ended softly. Dean pulled over to the side of the road between two walls of corn fields. He killed the engine as the song ended.

"You aren't human, Cas."

"I always wanted to be."

"Well, you got it," Dean dropped his head and tightened his fist around the wheel, "and it killed you." He threw his fist into the dashboard. Cas tried not to flinch, but he did. Dean put a few more solid hits in before the anger visibly drained out of his body, and the only sound left was the cicadas. "I don't get it, Cas. You were always the infinite one. I never thought- I never expected-. I was supposed to go first, ya know. It was always supposed to be me. You were made to live longer- you deserve to live longer. You should have a priority spot guaranteed for you in Heaven because the goddamn place wouldn't even be there if it weren't for you. You should have lived until time ran out and you were all that was left because- fuck, Cas. You deserve it. You shouldn't be dying in my car on the side of the road in fucking Pennsylvania."

Cas didn't know he could smile and cry at the same time. "I wouldn't want to die anywhere else," and he knew then it was true.

Dean scrunched up his face, "Why the hell is this your desired death bed?"

"Because I love you, Dean."

Cas hadn't planned on saying that.

Dean blinked and his face went entirely blank, "You what?"

"I love you, Dean,"

"Yeah, idiot, I heard you-"

Before Cas could comprehend it, Dean was lurching across the car and clutching fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, pulling him in.

And they were kissing.

Dean's mouth was warm and pliant and so damned and perfect. They were grabbing and pulling and it was desperate and rushed because they had no time. Because they had waited so long and left it until the end.

All the nights when Cas watched Dean sleep. All the nights Dean prayed Cas would come home. All the lingering touches. The halfway confessions. The snarky comebacks over black coffee. The mornings when Dean wakes up feeling empty without Cas watching over: They were all leading up to this.

This one kiss. This one dying kiss.

Cas tasted the salty tears between their lips. He heard the choked sobs in the back of Dean's throat. They only made him grip harder, kiss deeper. Dean was still desperately clutching Cas' hair. Anchoring him. Willing him to keep living. Dean felt as though his bones were on fire, like his whole body had burst into flames.

Castiel whispered one last prayer to his father against the Winchester's lips, "Mercy, oh mercy."

White light. White hot light surged through Dean's body, spilling out into the Impala. Explosive energy like a smiting burst from within. He felt as though a hydrogen bomb had gone off in his chest.

Cas broke the kiss as the energy burst through Dean's body and shut his eyes tightly.  
"Dean?!" he yelled over the hum of the light.

Dean couldn't speak, he was paralyzed. His body shook as the tar seemed to melt from his bones, as the darkness in his eyes became illuminated. But, it wasn't painful. It felt peaceful. It felt like coming home.

Cas, scared out of his mind, gripped Dean's shirt and held him as the light began fading. Just then, the explosive white burst came again. But, this time, from within Castiel's chest. Burning. Repairing. Purifying.

There the two men sat, on a back road in nowhere Pennsylvania, desperately clutching one another, engulfed in white flames.

You see, they saved each other. Dean had unknowingly completed the purification trials alongside Cas. Present at the herb burning, the smoke in his lungs. Bitten by the snake, the venom in his bloodstream. Loving again, loving _Cas_ , that was his soul's intended purpose. Because, as I said right in the beginning, there was never a boy who had the capacity to love so fully and so deeply as Dean Winchester.

As Dean's was cured, Cas finished the mission. Cas saved him, _his_ intended purpose. So, he was given a purified soul, a pair of wings, and his life. A life he would spend with Dean.

The lights faded. Dean opened his eyes, still tightly gripping Cas, inches from his face. Cas was crying. They breathed heavily in the sudden silence. Dean quietly rasped, "What the hell was that?"

And they were kissing again.


End file.
